Loose Ends
by fieldagent85
Summary: The Bartlet administration is faced with a terrorism crisis while struggling with equally prominent personal problems. Included: murder, kidnapping, cancer, rape, and a few beloved characters are revealed as traitors. UPDATED July 10th!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note

Before we get down to business, I would like to point out that the inception of one or more character relationships in this story can be traced back to my Catalyst series. That being said, please know that this story has no affiliation whatsoever with any aspect of the Catalyst series; I simply enjoy certain pairings that were created as such.

This story, as you may have noticed already, adopts a completely different style of fanfiction. The technique is based upon the format of the television show 24. I don't know how many of you are familiar with 24 or its designs, so I'll take a second to briefly explain. On the show, each season is twenty-four episodes long, each episode representing one hour out of twenty-four. They are presented in real time. In that tradition, this story will be comprised of fifteen chapters, instead of 24, each chapter representing an hour. As on 24, there are many storylines occuring at once underneath a blanket plot that involves, directly and indirectly, each of the characters. The same goes for this story. Also in tradition with 24, some of the storylines are bit grotesque and melodramatic, as in slightly improbable though technically possible. On that note, please realize that this story is in NO WAY a 24 crossover fic, nor does it include more than two aspects of the aforementioned show, as followed: the involvement of CTU (Counter Terrorism Unit), which is a fictional subdivision of the CIA that specializes in exactly what the name describes and has actually been mentioned on The West Wing (I believe in "Debate Camp"), and the character of Ryan Chappelle, director of CTU Division Headquarters, whose personality as established on 24 plays no role in this story as he appears essentially in name only and does precisely what I tell him to.

With that said, I would like to let it be known that this story is something of an experiment. This is my first time writing anything remotely like this and while it has been and continues to be a rewarding experience for me as a writer, it is an experiment nonetheless and I am still working out the kinks. In addition, I realize that this story is not for everyone and I fully understand if you choose not to read it, though I ask that you give it a shot. However, if you do read and enjoy it, please let me know so I can take that into account for future endeavors.

One last miniscule detail to point out- I have taken the liberty of manipulating the canon timeline so that, despite the fact that it's January of 2002, Sam has already competed and lost his bid for congress. He is now working at a law firm in the DC area. And thanks to Gabby for her help on part of this chapter! J

Hour One

The following takes place between 7:00pm and 8:00pm on January 6th, 2002, in Washington, DC unless otherwise noted.

In the week following the faded holiday season, the White House had been bustling with harried people and convoluted problems to solve, just as it had been before. Repose seemed an impossibility, their lives a crowded path with no end in sight. All attempts to lessen the workload had been thwarted by some unnamed force of nature that reigned supreme above them. Higher, even, than the President of the United States. He had sailed through the past week, weightlessly floating from one crisis to another, resolving each with estimable ease and elegance. His gift for either concealing or avoiding (it's never been boldly clear) the kind of stress that, say, Josh Lyman exhibited was not reward enough for the separation he had endured from his wife during this time. In the midst of each calamity that was hurled in his direction, he had found himself more inadvertantly distant from her than ever. Not one night in the past week had he reached the Residence in time to see her lovely eyes open and wide awake, and not one night had he departed late enough to kiss her goodbye and taste the coffee on her lips. He'd had enough of that for one week.

Jed Bartlet stood behind his desk in the Oval Office as his personal aide loaded his briefcase with files and paperwork, none of which he planned to devote any time to for hours upon hours. Having completed his task, Charlie Young bid the President a good night and exited the office, only to be replaced by Leo McGarry.

"If it's an international crisis, shelve it till morning!" Jed exclaimed, grinning at his Chief of Staff slyly.

"Big plans this evening?" Leo questioned.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I am going to wine and dine my wife and what happens after that, I cannot say."

Leo smirked.

"Give her my best."

"Yours, old friend, will be the very last name I will be dropping, if any, on this particular evening."

"I have no doubt of that, sir."

"You should take it easy, Leo. Take the night the off. Really, I'm commanding you," Jed said.

Leo laughed and shook his head.

"I think I'll stick around a little while longer."

Briefcase clutched in hand, the President strolled toward the door to the portico jovially.

"Suit yourself. I'm gone. Have a good night."

"Do the same, sir."

Leo stood, alone and silent, in the empty office, watching attentively as Jed's figure moved farther and farther away from him. His own reluctance to leave the office stemmed from a deep-rooted fear of the notion that the night was far from over. In fact, Leo had an unshakeable gut feeling that it had just begun.

7:14 pm

Josh Lyman had been on the phone for over an hour. He had returned phone calls from the Energy Secretary's assistant, Congresswoman Platt, Senator Conroy's Chief of Staff, and his mother all within the hour and considered himself accomplished and productive after having successfully completed each call. A moment before, Donna had popped her head in and informed him that, as far as she could see, he was done for the night and as, she hoped, was she. Contrary to Donna's impression, Josh had one final call to make. He picked up the phone and dialed the number himself, separate from Donna's maneuvers. He waited five rings, then hung up in frustration. Two minutes later, he repeated the action to no avail. Three minutes after that, the repetition continued.

7:20 pm

CJ Cregg popped her head into the office upon noticing that he was inside. The phone was pressed against his ear and she noticed his expression turned from hopeful to irritated in record time before he slammed the phone down onto the receiver.

"If it makes you feel any better, I've been on hold for a cow for the last fifteen minutes," CJ stated.

Josh shrugged.

"That does make me feel better actually."

"Although there's a distinct possibility that it may, in all truthfulness, be a goat. I can't say for sure."

"Common misconception."

"So, who you been calling, Alexander Graham Bell?" CJ questioned.

"First off, I think we need to work on your sense of humor. You're getting a little rusty. Second, I find it unimaginably degrading to be ignored by one's own psychiatrist."

"You can't get a hold of Dr. Keyworth?"

"Busy guy, it seems."

CJ invaded the office fully and collapsed into the chair in front of Josh's desk.

"He's in town?"

"He's been living in Georgetown for awhile now. Apparently, there's more trauma in the District of Columbia than in the whole of California," Josh explained.

"It's funny, I don't find that hard to believe."

"You shouldn't."

He picked up the phone once more and dialed the number, which he had now memorized.

"Wrong number maybe?" CJ suggested.

Josh shook his head.

"Nah."

Seconds later, he slammed the phone down yet again.

"Why don't you go take a walk or something? I'm a little worried for your sanity, or lack thereof, at the moment."

Josh scoffed at her.

"Why the hell do you think I'm trying to get a hold of Stanley?"

7:26 P.M.

Dr. Millicent Griffith dropped her tray onto the table in the mess and watched it bounce one or twice before sitting down in front of it.

"You really know how to woo a girl, McGarry."

Leo placed his own tray across from hers and sat down at well.

"Hey, the mess is open late tonight. I figured we'd take advantage of this joyous occasion."

"How thoughtful of you. Abbey and Jed are dining in the swanky private dining room while we sit in the mess eating salads." Her eyes fell upon the contents of his tray. "Or burgers, as the case may be."

He looked up at her as he held the burger just centimeters from his mouth and lowered it quickly.

"What?"

"You really gonna sit in front of a doctor, the most prominent in the U.S., and eat a big, fat juicy cheeseburger?" Millie questioned.

"Yeah."

He took a bite from the big, fat, juicy cheeseburger and closed his eyes in ecstasy. Millie frowned, leaned back in her chair, and folded her arms across her chest. Leo rolled his eyes and surrendered, putting the burger back down onto the tray.

"Thank you."

"Yeah, okay," Leo muttered.

"How's it gonna look when the Surgeon General's boyfriend doesn't listen to the counsel she preaches? If he won't listen to my medical advice, why should anyone else?"

"Okay, are we done with this now?"

"Yeah," Millie answered nonchalantly. "How was your day?"

"Milder than the last seven days, that's for sure. How was yours?"

"Fine. I spoke at a Presidential Classroom seminar this morning. Half the kids fell asleep."

Leo laughed.

"They did, huh?"

"Well, it was eight in the morning, I can't say I blame them too much. I nearly fell asleep and I was the one talking."

"That's a surefire sign that you need a new speechwriter, kiddo."

"Thanks for the suggestion," Millie replied. "Here, take my salad."

She slid the plastic container across the table.

"You're not gonna eat?" Leo asked.

"Not hungry."

Just as Leo grabbed his fork and reluctantly began to dig in to his salad, Margaret came running into the nearly empty cafeteria in a frenzy. Millie nodded to Leo, whose back was to Margaret, and he whirled around.

"They need you in the Sit Room."

Leo paused for a moment, then nodded his head in assent.

"Thanks."

Margaret smiled tersely and exited the mess. Leo slumped back in his chair and gazed across at Millie apologetically.

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged, helplessly. This wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last.

"Go."

7:35 pm

After almost an hour on hold, CJ finally finished her conversation with Heffer International and promptly ended the phone call. Almost in sync with the moment she hung up the phone, it rang again. She groaned in discontent and unenthusiastically picked it up.

"CJ Cregg. Tommy, hi." It was her oldest brother. She had not heard from him in over a month, which wasn't all that long in the Cregg family. "What's going on? Yeah. Wait a second. What the hell do you mean, Hogan's gone missing? How could she go missing? She's almost eighteen. She has a car and a cell phone, and you're telling me she's missing. Yeah. She didn't…she didn't come home after Winter Ball last night? And you're just now realizing she might be missing. That's good parenting. I'm not lecturing you, Tommy, I'm just saying…yeah. Okay. I will let you know if I hear from her. Yes. Okay, bye."

CJ replaced the phone on the receiver and leaned back in her chair. She stared straight ahead, pensively weighing the options in her head.

7:44 pm

Abbey Bartlet swirled her melting vanilla ice cream around the bowl with her spoon absently. Her husband was all too focused on his tiramisu and she was all too determined to change his focus to something more worthwhile. She narrowed her eyes seductively in his direction, continuing to move her spoon around aimlessly, until he finally looked up. A sly smile spread across his face and he dropped his spoon onto the table.

"You know, I've hardly seen you once since we got back from New Hampshire last week," she pointed out demurely.

"I know that," Jed replied. "Wasn't exactly a conscious decision on my part though."

"I know that. I think now would be a good time to make up for that, don't you?"

Catching her drift, he grinned and pushed his plate away. She did the same. He pushed his chair back and stood, holding his hand out to her. She graciously accepted, and he pulled her out of her seat.

7:47 pm

When Leo McGarry entered the Situation Room, all harried conversation came to an immediate halt. He unbuttoned his jacket and sat down in his usual seat.

"All right, talk to me, Fitz. Nancy."

He leaned in and braced himself for what was about to come.

"Leo, about an hour ago, one of Nancy's deputies at the NSA came forward with some information regarding a plot against the United States."

"A plot? What kind of plot?" Leo questioned solemnly.

"This guy, his name is Paul Crawford, had been working in collusion with the IRA…"

"The International Reading Association?"

"The Irish Republican Army. Also known as the most violent terrorist organization in Ireland," Nancy responded unaffected by the humor. "Crawford requested immunity in exchange for his information. We gave it to him."

"According to Crawford," Admiral Fitzwallace explained. "The IRA, along with a significant portion of the Sinn Fein, developed this plot as an attempt to weaken England's primary ally and, in doing so, weaken the crown."

"Yeah," Leo said. "What kind of plot are we talking about here?"

"Some form of violent attack on our soil. Crawford seems to be alluding to a bomb of some sort. I don't think he knows the intimate details of the actual attack; he's just the IRA's puppet, their mole feeding them with the information they need."

"I'm gonna ask a question here. Feel free to negate me, in fact, I encourage it. The person orchestrating all of this, is it…"

"Brendan McGann?" Dr. McNally said. "Yes."

"Swell. Okay, let me get this straight. An Irish terrorist organization is plotting to bomb the United States to inadvertantly hit England."

"That's right," Fitz confirmed.

"The President's gonna love this," Leo mumbled. "What's going on with the mole now, Crawford is it?"

Fitz nodded.

"He's still being interrogated for further information. We suspect there's a lot he's not telling us yet. We're….motivating him."

"Who's doing the interrogating? The CIA?"

"CTU," Nancy answered.

"Okay."

"Leo." Nancy requested his attention. "We need to get the President down here."

Leo nodded.

"Yeah. I'm on my way."

7:51 pm

Jed's heart was racing, his chest pounding in anticipation. He gripped her by the swells of her hips, gently caressing the curves that defined her shapely figure.

"You're awfully friendly," she whispered just before their lips met in a collision she had been longing for since dinner.

"It's been a week since I've had you all to myself. I don't want to waste this time."

Without a word, Abbey untucked his shirt and slipped her palms under the fabric to feel the warmth of his chest. She fanned her hands then, ripping his buttons at the root and ignoring them as they fell carelessly to the floor. Jed ran his fingers up and down the silky material of her purple tunic. He could never get enough of the way that dress hugged her figure, emphasizing the arch of her back and the round globes of her rear.

Her arms were bare, just the way he liked them, and the slit that ran seductively from her knee up to her thigh seemed to go even higher tonight. If there was one complaint about this dress, it was the way it covered her chest, shielding her breasts from his loving touch.

He pulled her in again, his mouth invading hers as he coiled his fingers around the zipper in the back. With one tug, he pulled it, yanking the dress so hard that it tore at her shoulders and fell into a heap around her ankles.

They didn't care. The passion that raged between them ruled their actions. She pushed her body against his and as he stumbled backwards towards the bed, his hands found the top of her panties and his fingers curled around the satiny softness. He changed direction then, forcing her to recline just as her knees hit the mattress.

The front clasp of her bra was snapped open and her breasts roamed freely from behind the constraints of the sexy lace. She gasped when Jed's mouth touched her, lavishing the smooth slopes with a thousand kisses. He massaged the top of her right mound, then moved to the left, pausing in one particular area as he furrowed his brows and looked up at her.

"Abbey?"

"Don't stop," she moaned, still panting from his manipulations.

"Abbey. Honey..."

Abbey raised her head slightly. "What?"

Without a word, he took her hand and guided her to the area in question. Placing his palm on top of hers, he pushed down on her skin. "Right there."

She gasped involuntarily and quickly pulled her hand away, causing him to look up at her with a patent concern in his face. Her eyes had glazed over by this time, her lips parted slightly, emitting short, ragged breaths. He slid off from on top of her and rested against the headboard beside her. Both of them staring vacantly ahead, deeply lost in thought, the silence that surrounded them was impenetrable. When he reached over to grasp her hand, she drew in a sharp breath and nearly pulled away, startled. Her hand couldn't escape his, though, and soon her muscles began to relax. He turned his head to observe the full affects of her emotions and was surprised by the empty expression that still occupied her face. It appeared as if she felt nothing, but he knew better. Before he had the chance to inquire as to her castaway feelings, her hand slipped out of his and she climbed out of bed. He watched her silently as she picked her discarded dress off the floor and used it to cover her bare chest. Sufficiently sheathed, she scurried into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Jed threw his legs off the bed and stood, slowly meandering toward the bathroom. He stood in front of the closed door and waited, for a sound, for a signal, for a movement. He could not possibly grasp the fear that was plaguing her at that moment, but he imagined it was something similar to the fear that threatened his own conscience. He pressed his palm against the door and divulged her name softly. He waited a moment and when she didn't react to his pleas, he twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open unhurriedly. With his access granted, he leaned against the doorframe, afraid to disturb her rapid stream of consciousness. She stood before the mirror, having done away with the clothing that had haphazardly shielded her chest from no eyes but his own, and appeared to be visually examining herself. She did not turn her head to acknowledge his presence.

"Abbey."

Jed spoke her name compassionately but failed to capture her attention.

"It's probably nothing," he reassured her.

Without looking at him, she replied, "Doesn't feel like nothing."

"It could easily be benign," Jed insisted. "In fact, there's a substantial chance that it is. A cyst, nothing more."

"Yeah."

Suddenly breaking eye contact with her own reflected gaze in the mirror, she turned and exited the bathroom, brushing past him briskly as she did so. She advanced toward the closet, emerging with a bathrobe, which she promptly donned.

"Why don't you make an appointment?" He asked.

"It can wait."

She fell back onto the couch and lifted her feet onto the table. He moved closer, his hands dangling helplessly at his sides.

"No, Abbey, it can't."

She glared up at him defiantly. Placated by her heated glower, he changed his tone.

"Just have a test done. Make an appointment at Bethesda and have it done later tonight. The press has gone home so there'll be no one hounding you; you won't have to answer to anyone. Get it over with, and we'll have the results by the end of the day tomorrow. You'll feel better, I'll feel better."

Her rebellious air was then replaced by an intense vulnerability matched only by a paralyzing fear for her own life, one that was equaled by him as well. Moisture began to well up in her eyes, his heart shattering when the first tear trickled down her cheek. As he moved toward her, all traffic was halted by the sound of someone knocking on the door.

"Damnit."

Jed regarded her sympathetically before switching directions and heading to the door. She closed the gaps her robe left open and bowed her head to conceal potential tears. He reluctantly opened the door and was not surprised in the least to find his Chief of Staff standing rigid before him.

"Mr. President, you're needed in the Situation Room."

7:59:57 7:59:58 7:59:59 8:00:00


	2. Chapter 2

Hour Two

The following takes place between 8:00pm and 9:00pm on January 6th, 2002, in Washington, DC unless otherwise noted.

The President stole a glance back at his wife, who sat wide-eyed on the couch. The Situation Room could only mean one thing. Not only was her own life in danger, the country was too. He gestured for his Chief of Staff to wait a moment, then cautiously approached her. She stood to meet him halfway.

"Abbey…"

He ran his hands up and down her arms gently. She smiled reassuringly, attempting to comfort both herself and her husband.

"It's okay. You need to go."

"I want you to make that appointment."

"Jed." She flashed him 'the look.' "Go."

"Okay," he replied, nodding.

She smiled again, and he leaned forward to kiss her softly.

"Abbey," He said again, searching for the words he needed to aptly convince her.

"Jed, in the time you've spent standing here with me, every foreign head of State in the world could have been assassinated. Go." 

8:03 pm

The President followed his Chief of Staff into the hallway and walked briskly beside him on their way to the dreaded Situation Room.

"What's going on?"

"The IRA, in association with Sinn Fein…"

"Oh, for God's sake," Jed muttered under his breath.

Leo sighed and continued, unperturbed.

"The IRA, in association with Sinn Fein, is apparently planning an attack on the US, through means of…"

"What the hell? "

"Sir."

"Ireland is attacking us!" Jed exclaimed. "Tell me this is some kind of horrible 'too bad you won that election' joke."

"No, sir, I'm afraid not. We're Code Red on account of a bomb threat from the Irish equivalent of Italian fascists."

"The United States does not negotiate with terrorists."

"Mr. President…" Leo protested.

"The United States does not negotiate with terrorists, Leo"  
"That's the thing."

"What's the thing?"

"There's no question of negotiation. They don't want anything."

"Are you-what the hell is going on here, Leo!" Jed demanded, angrily.

"Their intent is to weaken England's foremost ally and, in doing so, weaken the crown."

"That's…that's twisted. I don't even...I don't think…I can't…hell, I can't even finish a damn sentence."

"This is a 'hey, look what we can do' threat," Leo said. "This is a 'hey, England, check this out.' Next thing you know, we're looking at bits and pieces of Parliament floating along the Thames river."

"Let's hope it doesn't start with bits and pieces of the Capitol floating along the Potomac. Tell me, if the IRA is planning to bomb the hell out of us, why would they tell us about it beforehand if they don't want anything?"

"They didn't. It was one of our guys."

"A mole?" Jed asked.

"Yeah, in the NSA. He came forward an hour ago offering his information in exchange for immunity."

"It take it you gave it to him."

"Yes, sir."

"What's his name?"

"Sir, I'm not sure…"

"What's his name, Leo? I want to call him up and let him know he's a traitor to his own country."

"His name is Paul Crawford, native of Los Angeles, grandparents both English immigrants," Leo explained.

"Man, his grandparents must have put him through hell if he's…"

"Married to Colleen McGann, the youngest daughter of…"

"Brendan McGann," Jed finished, sighing.

"Yeah."

"Who is orchestrating the whole thing."

"Yeah."

Jed shook his head in disbelief.

"Boy, this gives whole new meaning to the phrase 'fighting Irish,' doesn't it?"

Leo nodded.

"Yes, sir."

They paused in front of the guarded door to the Situation Room. The President took a deep breath and with one subtle nod of the head, they were granted entrance.

"All right. Let's go."

8:11pm

"I'm assuming you haven't been in a situation like this before."

Both Admiral Fitzwallace and Dr. McNally exchanged glances before making eye contact with their President.

"Nothing quite like this, sir," Fitz replied. "This is an organization with no known gripes with the United States, other than the fact that we consort with Britain. Before now, mere consortiums haven't been grounds to bomb another country."

"What about World War Two?" Leo questioned.

"During peacetime, I mean."

"Do we have any sort of time frame to work with here?" Jed asked.

"Crawford gave us a pretty sizeable window of time. He either wouldn't divulge specifics or he doesn't know. Our guys are working on him as we speak," Fitz explained.

"What are we looking at?"

"Twenty-four hours," Nancy said. "But anything could happen up until that point."

"Okay." He sighed. "I want the Secretarys of State, Defense, and Homeland Security. I want the directors of the CIA, FBI, and CTU, and I want the Irish ambassador. And get me Lord Marbury. Now."

8:18 pm

Abbey was grateful for the ominous silence. It gave her mind a chance to catch up with her heart and somehow form a compromise. She paced the bedroom anxiously, wringing her hands and breathing heavily. An hour ago, she had been enjoying a romantic dinner with her husband. Twenty minutes ago, he was leading her to the bed, that passionate glint in his eyes. Now, she was alone in a room with only her thoughts, thoughts that involved the words "cancer," "surgery," "chemotherapy," and the most terrifying of all, "death." Somewhere in the back of my mind, she realized the improbability of the latter word, but that didn't ease her fears. If death was creeping up slowly behind her, this wasn't how she wanted to go. Not in the White House, not in the same building as the White House press corps, not on the cover of People magazine. When her time came, she wanted her husband to have the time to spend with her in her final days, rather than running off to the sit room or Air Force One. She needed him. She wanted die where she was born. She wanted to die in New England- in Manchester, if not Boston.

But she was getting ahead of herself. It was just a lump. Women get lumps all the time. As a doctor, she should know this. She should be rational. But it's not so easy to be rational when your own life is at stake.

A knock at the door jostled her out of her reverie. She cautiously approached double doors and invited the unidentified intruder inside.

"Millie."

She breathed her best friend's name in both surprise and relief. Millie, whose mood at that moment could have been described as exhasperated and cynical having been ditched by her date, closed the door behind her and skeptically observed the First Lady's expression. Abbey's eyes were wide and vulernable, her lips trembling.

"Oh my God."

Millie frowned and quickly threw her arms around her.

"What's wrong?"

They broke apart and Millie lead her to the couch, holding her hand tightly.

"Abbey."

The look of concern in Millie's eyes was Abbey's undoing. She abandoned her senses and broke down in tears. Millie pulled her into her arms and held her until her tear ducts had dried out.

"You ready to tell me what's wrong?" She asked quietly. "Is it Jed? One of the kids?"

Abbey shook her head.

"It's me."

8:29 pm

Ellie Bartlet's normally quiet apartment in Baltimore was abnormally saturated by fits of laughter and giggles. In an all too rare occurance, the three Bartlet sisters had gathered for absolutely no reason at all. They were not celebrating a birthday, holiday or anniversary, they were not attending a special gala for their father. They had congregated willingly, on their own terms, and were determined to enjoy it for as long as they could.

Occupied by the glasses of red wine in their hands and nostalgic stories to tell, Liz, Ellie, and Zoey were completely in their element. Nobody to impress, nobody to care for.

"We really have to do this more often," Liz stated.

"Maybe if we all lived a little closer together…" Ellie said.

"Zoey, why don't you move back to New Hampshire after graduation?" Liz suggested.

"What about grad school?" Zoey replied.

"Dartmouth! Or you could even do grad school in the Boston area for all I care. It's not like there aren't enough choices."

"I don't know, guys. I've got Jean-Paul to think about. And somebody has to take care of Mom and Dad." Zoey winked at her sisters.

"Don't let Frenchy rule your life, Zo," Liz said firmly.

"Jean-Paul. For the love of God, his name is Jean-Paul."

Zoey took a long swig from her wine glass.

"Well, whatever. Don't let him keep you from your family."

"Hey," Zoey complained, defensively. "I'm not that kind of girl. If I want to do something, no man is going to keep me from doing it."

"Then what's the problem?" Ellie asked.

"I don't want to leave Jean-Paul."

Liz rolled her eyes and frowned at her empty wine glass.

"Then you're out of your mind."

8:37 pm

Leo McGarry followed the President back to his office as they exchanged their respective stratagems about how to handle the situation with Ireland. They halted their conversation when they came in contact with Charlie Young and Debbie Fiderer in front of the office. Charlie and Debbie immediately stood to honor the presence of their boss.

"Guys, I'm gonna need you to hang tight for awhile. I hope neither of you had plans this evening."

They both shook their heads, regardless of whether or not they did, in actuality, have plans.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" Charlie asked.

"No. Thanks, Charlie. Debbie." Jed cocked his head to the side and gestured for Debbie to follow him a few feets away.

"Yes, sir." Debbie looked up at him expectantly.

"Do me a favor, will you."

"Anything, Mr. President."

"Call up the First Lady and find out her if she's done what I asked her to."

"In those words?"

"Yeah. When you get her answer, report back to me."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you!"

With that, he escorted Leo into the Oval Office and closed the door behind them. Charlie's eyes followed Debbie as she returned to her desk, sat down, and picked up the phone. She dialed a number that Charlie could not see and waited rather impatiently for someone to answer. Thirty seconds later, she hung up the phone, sporting a concerned expression on her face. Charlie walked over to her desk and waited to be noticed.

"Debbie."

"Huh?" She glanced up, startled.

"You look as if you've just seen a Muppet."

Now sufficiently snapped out of her daze, Debbie shrugged and stood up.

"I wish."

"Where are you going?" Charlie questioned.

"I have a dinner date with George Clooney."

Charlie scowled at her as she swept out onto the portico swiftly and was out of sight.

8:42 pm

"Damnit!"

Josh slammed the phone down onto the receiver for the twenty-first time that evening. This time, his frustration was so thunderous that it sent Donna scurrying into his office.

"What the hell…"

"I can't get Stanley on the phone!" Josh exclaimed.

"No kidding," Donna said. "I wouldn't want to talk to you either, especially if I was your shrink. He's probably out for the night. Why don't you wait and call him in the morning?"

"He's not out for the night. He's a psychiatrist, for God's sake."

"Psychiatrists have lives too, Josh."

Josh shook his head.

"Not this one."

He got up and grabbed his jacket off of the couch.

"Where are you going!" Donna demanded to know.

"To Stanley's apartment."

She called after him, but he was already gone.

8:45 pm

Millie had spent the last nearly fifteen minutes convincing Abbey that she had nothing to fear. She spouted out all the medical facts that Abbey already knew, hoping that hearing it from her would do the trick. In all truthfulness, however, Millie was almost as frightened by the potential illness as Abbey was. She just much better at concealing her trepidation.

A knock on the day saved them from delving deeper into the issue at hand. Abbey wiped her tears with the back of her hand and answered the door. Upon seeing the traumatized face of the First Lady, Debbie Fiderer was both regretful and thankful that she had come.

"Mrs. Bartlet, I'm so sorry to bother you."

Abbey smiled, sniffling.

"No, it's okay, Debbie. Come on in."

Debbie smiled gratefully and stepped inside the lavish presidential bedroom. Her smile instinctively widened the moment she spotted the Surgeon General, who stood to greet her.

"Dr. Griffith."

"Ms. Fiderer."

They congregated in a circle, Abbey still clearly shaken, Millie cautiously optimistic, and Debbie nervous as all hell.

"What can I do for you, Debbie?" Abbey asked, softly, sniffling once more.

"Ma'am…"

"Abbey," the First Lady corrected her quickly.

"Abbey," Debbie rephrased. "The President asked me to call and…"

"Oh, that was you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm so sorry we didn't answer."

"Oh, it's no problem. I just thought I'd make sure you were all right," Debbie said.

"That's very sweet of you. But, wait. The President told you to…"

"Find out if you did what he asked you to."

Abbey nodded knowingly.

"I see. Did he…"

"Give me any remote idea as to what he was talking about?" Debbie asked. "No. He didn't tell me a thing, ma'am."

As if for approval, Abbey glanced hesitantly at Millie, who nodded.

"Well, I guess I could use all the advice I can get."

Abbey and Millie guided a bewildered Debbbie over to the couch and sat her down.

"Debbie, about an hour ago, while my husband and I were…actually, that's not important. About an hour ago, I discovered a cyst on my left breast."

Debbie's hand involuntarily rose to cover her mouth. Seeing this, Abbey paused, then continued as if she hadn't.

"My husband is insisting that I make an appointment right away to have it checked out, but I'm hesitant to do it so soon."

"Why?" Debbie questioned bluntly.

"Well, I…it's nearly nine at night and I…"

"Mrs. Bartlet, you're the First Lady. It doesn't matter what time of night it is. And wouldn't it be better to go now? You know, less press and all that?"

"We had thought of that, yes," Abbey replied.

"With all due respect, ma'am, what the hell are you waiting for?"

8:53 pm

Leo McGarry stood in front of the President's desk, speaking in almost a whisper. The President leaned in, listening intently. When Charlie Young entered the room, they both halted all conversation and gave him their full attention.

"Sir, I have CJ and Toby."

Jed nodded.

"Send 'em in."

He and Leo moved to sit in their two usual chairs beside the couches and waited for CJ Cregg and Toby Ziegler to take their seats.

"Where's Josh?" Leo questioned.

"He's running around on some kind of scavenger hunt trying to find Dr. Keyworth," CJ exlaimed.

"He'll be back soon," Toby said quickly.

"Okay. Sir?"

"Yeah. Listen, we've got a situation," Jed began. "Although this sounds like a practical joke, I assure you, it is one hundred percent real."

"Oh, God," Toby mumbled.

"The IRA, that is the Irish Republican Army, not the International Reading Association." He stole a glance at Leo. "Yes, Nancy told me about that. Anyway. The IRA, we have learned, is plotting an attack on U.S. soil within the next twenty-four hours."

"Ireland is attacking us," CJ said flatly.

"No, Ireland is not…yes, Ireland is attacking us."

"It's important to understand," Leo said. "That it's not the whole of Ireland attacking us. It's the IRA and Sinn Fein, a terrorist organization and political party respectively."

"Excuse me, but isn't Sinn Fein's primary purpose to gain full indepedence from England?" Toby inquired.

"Yes."

"Then why, may I ask, are they planning to attack the United States?"

"Beats the hell outta me," the President murmured in exhasperation.

"In their minds, if they get us, they get England," Leo explained. "We're England's most visible and powerful ally."

"That's completely nonsensical," Toby complained.

"Yes, it is. But believe you me, the IRA isn't largely unintelligent," Leo replied. "They have a reason, they have a goal, and they have a damn good plan to achieve that goal, and we're not gonna rest till we figure out what that plan is and put a stop to it."

"Am I talking to the press?" CJ asked.

Leo shook his head.

"No. Not yet. We don't know where they're planning to attack and we don't know precisely when. We don't want widespread panic, that's no good. Once we have something concrete, we'll talk."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"No," Jed said. "But be sure to stick around."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

8:57 pm

Josh had the cab park a block away from Stanley Keyworth's apartment. From there, he walked, complete with backpack and everything, down the sidewalk, his eyes widening more with every step he took. In the distance, he could clearly spot an ambulance, two police cars, and three unidentified black vehicles parked directly in front of Staney's townhouse. Josh's brisk race quickly morphed into a jog, a run, and soon he was racing to the scene. He harriedly approached a group of police officers on the sidewalk in front of the building and interrupted their hushed conversation.

"Excuse me. My name is Josh Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff to the President. What's…" He looked around. "What's going on here?"

"You know a…Dr. Stanley Keyworth?" One officer asked, looking at his narrow pad of paper.

"Yes," Josh replied quickly and, despite potential loss of dignity, continued. "He's my…he's my psychiatrist."

The officers exchanged weary glances and shook their heads sadly.

"He's dead, kid."

Josh's breath caught in his throat and he began coughing in the cold night air. The officers watched him warily.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Stanley Keyworth is dead," the officer repeated. "He's been murdered."

8:59:57 8:59:58 8:59:59 9:00:00


	3. Chapter 3

Hour Three

The following takes place between 9:00pm and 10:00pm on January 6th, 2002, in Washington, DC unless otherwise noted.

Josh Lyman stood motionless on the sidewalk in front of Dr. Stanley Keyworth's apartment. The police officers had surrounded him, observing him carefully. Josh's expression morphed from shock, to sadness, to fear in record time. An older officer placed a kind hand on the younger man's shoulders and drew him back into reality.

"Mr. Lyman?"

Josh blinked a couple times, then made eye contact with the officer.

"Yeah."

"Are you all right?"

He frowned and nodded his head, albeit distractedly.

"Yeah. What…what happened?"

The officer took a deep breath before responding.

"Bullet through the head, bullet through the heart, a couple of mild stab wounds. Neither weapon could be found on the scene. No fingerprints."

"No leads?"

"Not a one. You got anything for us?"

Josh shook his head.

"No."

"Do you know if Dr. Keyworth had any known enemies?"

"He's a psychiatrist," Josh said. "All it takes is one suicidal, schizophrenic patient…"

The officer nodded.

"That's what we figured."

"What about the investigation?"

"We discovered the body less than forty-five minutes ago," the officer replied. "No plans for investigation yet."

"Who can I call?" Josh asked.

"Lieutenant Hopkins down at the precinct."

"Thank you."

Josh bowed his head and turned away from the older man.

"Hey, kid."

He whipped around.

"You sure you're okay to get back?"

"I'm fine!" Josh called back. "Thanks."

9:05 pm

A pensive silence fell upon the Roosevelt Room as the President slowly digested the rush of information that had been hurled at him in the last ten minutes. The directors of the CIA, FBI, and CTU had been briefing him further on the information previously expounded on by the Chairman of Joint Chiefs and the National Security Advisor.

"Although we can't be sure just yet, it looks like Crawford has told us everything he knows, sans the whereabouts of his wife," the CIA director, Walt Kaufman, said.

"We're to assume she's involved?" Jed questioned.

"Yes, sir," replied Rick Kayser, the director of the FBI. "Crawford's involvement would not have been likely were he not married to Colleen McGann. The fact that he came forward leads us to infer that Crawford was most likely a reluctant player in the whole scheme, probably coerced by his wife."

"Our best bet now is to locate Ms. McGann, as it is highly likely that she is still in the country," Ryan Chappelle, director of CTU District Headquarters, added.

"Is there a reason we're calling her Ms. McGann as opposed to Mrs. Crawford?" The President wondered.

"McGann never took Crawford's last name, for reasons we're not privy to. Family loyalty, pride, etc, are all fair assumptions," Kayser explained.

"Mr. President, there is also another matter to consider," Walt Kaufman interjected. "We've been toying with the possibility that the ten year marriage between Colleen McGann and Paul Crawford was orchestrated."

"You mean arranged?"

"Premeditated, yes, sir. It's frankly just too convenient that the daughter of an Irish terrorist is married to a prominent member of the NSA."

"Okay." Jed sighed. "What you're tellling me is that there is a conspicuous likelihood that the IRA has been planning an attack on U.S. soil for over ten years."

"Yes, sir, Mr. President. That is precisely what we're telling you."

Concealing the considerable anguish he felt, the President stood up and marched toward the closed door before turning back to them.

"Guys, I want Colleen McGann within the hour."

"Yes, sir. We're on it."

"Thank you."

With that, he was gone.

9:09 pm

President Bartlet walked briskly from the Roosevelt Room to the Oval Office without stopping to speak to anyone. When he reached the outer office, Debbie Fiderer had just run in from the portico entrance. She hunched over her desk, breathless.

"Debbie?"

"Yes, sir," Debbie replied, breathing leavily.

"You all right?"

"Probably not a good idea to try and outrun your ego, sir."

"Wise words," Jed agreed. "Did you call the First Lady by any chance?"

"More than that, Mr. President," Debbie said. "I just spent the last twenty-five minutes in the Residence."

Jed's face fell with concern.

"Is Abbey…?"

"She's fine, sir. In fact, Dr. Griffith is with her as well."

"Good." He nodded to himself. "I assume she told you…"

"Yes, sir. I came down to tell you that Dr. Griffith and I stood right beside her as she called Bethesda. They'll be taking her down before the hour is up."

Debbie smiled sympathetically as he breathed a sigh of utter relief.

"Thank you."

"Not a problem, sir."

"I'm gonna head up to the Residence for a few minutes, so just I can…"

"I understand, sir," Debbie replied. "I'll tell Leo."

Jed nodded gratefully then exited out onto the portico.

9:17 pm Baltimore, Maryland

Liz, Ellie, and Zoey stood in front of the window in the living room of Ellie's apartment and watched as a yellow taxi cab pulled up outside. Zoey's current boyfriend, Jean-Paul, hopped out of the cab and greeted the agents posted at the doorstep.

"You didn't tell us he was coming," Liz said in disbelief.

Zoey walked away from the window.

"I didn't know."

She opened the front door and waited as Jean-Paul ascended the stairs up to the top floor. A big grin spread across Zoey's face at the sight of him and she ran into his arms when he got close enough.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"I thought I'd surprise you and escort you home."

Zoey grinned and kissed him. When they separated, Jean-Paul nodded cordially to the agents and followed his girlfriend into Ellie's apartment. Liz and Ellie stood in the corner of the living room with their arms folded across their chests, appearing skeptical and resentful. Completely oblivious, Jean-Paul smiled brightly and greeted them happily.

"Elizabeth. Ellie."

They both continued to glare at him, until the stern look on their little sister's face convinced them to behave otherwise.

"Hello, Jean-Paul. Won't you sit down?" Ellie asked, graciously.

"You are quite the hostess, Ellie," Jean-Paul commented, seating himself on the couch, followed instantly by Zoey.

"Thank you," she replied through gritted teeth.

"So, Jean-Paul," Liz began, sitting in an armchair across from the chair. "What's your favorite color?"

He frowned.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, what's your favorite color?"

Zoey looked at her older sister quizzically, and Liz brushed it off.

"Uh…green, I guess?"

"Good choice. They say geniuses pick green. What's your favorite movie?"

"Liz…" Zoey said, warningly.

"Well, I like that film with…Keanu Reeves. The, uh…the…"

"The Matrix," Liz said. "Yes. My daughter's last boyfriend used to make her watch it constantly. Horrible movie. What about books? What's your favorite book?"

When he hesitated, Ellie asked, "Do you read, Jean-Paul?"

"I can most certainly read!" Jean-Paul exclaimed defensively.

"Oh, I have no doubt you can read, Jean-Paul, and I assume Ellie feels the same. The question was do you read, not can you read."

"I read. I read Le Monde every morning."

"I see," Liz said. "Ever read Dickens? Fitzgerald? Hemingway? Bradbury? Whitman? Browning?"

"Uh…"

"Okay."

Zoey pursed her lips and glared angrily at her sisters. They smirked and shrugged dismissively in return.

9:24 pm Washington, D.C.

When Jed entered his bedroom, he found Millicent Griffith lounging on the bed he shared with his wife. She sat up and smiled at him.

"Mr. President," she greeted him, casually.

"Dr. Griffith." He approached the bed. "I can't tell you how grateful I am that you're here."

Millie shrugged, though by the expression on her face, it was obvious she was touched by his appreciation.

"That's what best friends do."

"Millie?" Abbey shouted from inside the bathroom.

Millie touched Jed lightly on the shoulder and brushed past him.

"I'll be outside."

"Thank you."

The moment the door closed behind Millie, Abbey emerged from the bathroom, stopping in her tracks when she saw her husband instead of her best friend. She walked toward him slowly and he closed the gap between them.

"What's going on?" She whispered hoarsely.

He didn't want to talk about that. No way did he want to talk about that. But, if she did…

"The IRA."

"The Irish Republican…"

"Yeah."

"What the hell are they…"

"Plotting what I can only assume is an emotional attack on England by plotting against us," Jed said.

"An inadvertant attack." Abbey nodded solemnly to herself. "Unconventional, to be sure. Do you have any idea what they're planning?"

"It's shaping up to look like a bomb on U.S. soil. We don't know much at this point."

"I should stay then."

"No." Jed shook his head. "We don't have any concrete information yet. For all we know, our only lead could fall through. It could be a fluke. Everyone's on it. CIA, FBI, CTU, Homeland Security. There's no reason for you to stay. This thing'll be over before you know it."

"Jed…"

"Abbey, if I thought you were in any remote kind of danger outside the White House, I'd keep you here, you know that. Truth is, I'd feel safer with you out of town. I don't think they're planning an attack on Bethesda anytime soon."

"I won't be too long," Abbey replied, having decided that it was no use arguing with him. "Jed, just say the word, and I'll…"

"I don't want you worrying about this," Jed told her. "You have enough on your plate, and we have this under control."

"The IRA is plotting to attack this country, Jed. You don't have it under control."

He nodded compliantly.

"To be honest, there's not a lot I can do. I'm being continuously briefed, but there aren't a whole lot of decisions to make right now. I have to let the agencies do their jobs."

"And you're feeling a little helpless," Abbey assumed.

"Yeah."

She grasped his hand tightly.

"Listen, I know how hard this night is gonna be on you, alternating between fretting for the country and for me. You need to focus all of your attention and energy on the situation at hand, Jed, on the country. Not me. I just want to let you know that I understand if you're not the world's most attentive husband tonight. I don't expect you to be. All I'm saying is, don't try to spread yourself too thin."

He smiled gratefully, then cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

"I love you so much."

She stroked his cheek and kissed him once more.

"And I love you. But enough of this. You have a job to do and I have a test to take."

9:37 pm

Josh Lyman passed through the gates of the White House, dazed and disillusioned. He was unnerved by the fact that he held such a high position in government, so capable and influential, and there was next to nothing he could do this time. His psychiatrist, his friend, had been murdered, by an unidentified offender and for reasons he could not even begin to contemplate, and he was forced to move along unperturbed.

He entered the lobby and stopped briefly in the doorway. Something was different. The atmosphere had changed since he left, and the mood was very different than his own. The movements of the staff was more frenetic than usual, more urgent. CJ slammed into him as he was walking to his office, and he was surprised when she breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"Where have you been?" CJ questioned. "You know it's ironic that the minute an international crisis strikes, you're nowhere to be found."

At that moment, Josh seriously ruminated upon whether or not to divulge where he had actually been. He wanted so badly to tell her, but the expression on her face explicitly told him that now was not the time. He did what anyone would do. He put on a front and denied any uncheck emotions.

"What's going on?"

"How can I put this simply? Let's see. Sinn Fein is attacking us. We don't know when and we don't know where."

"Sinn Fein? You mean the IRA and all that?" CJ nodded in response. "What the hell did we do to them?"

"You'll have to ask Brendan McGann for that one."

"Well." Josh sighed. "Nice of them to wait until after the holidays."

CJ grimaced.

"Josh."

"I'm just saying, I'd have enjoyed Hannukah a lot less if I thought a bomb could explode underneath my apartment at any minute."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm sure you're number one on their hit list."

Josh shrugged.

"You never know. I went to Ireland once and ate an English muffin. That kind of thing used to be enough back when good ole McCarthy was around."

"I don't know that the IRA spends too much time on the surveillance of American tourists' breakfast habits," CJ replied.

"There are few things I would put past the IRA."

"Josh, I'm not sure you appreciate the gravity of this situation."

"Well, I'm sorry, but it does sound a little ludicrous," Josh commented.

"I assure you, it is very, very real."

"CJ."

They turned around to find Carol standing nearby, tapping her foot.

"What's up?"

"I just got off the phone with Hogan," Carol said.

"What! Where is she? Is she okay?"

"She's on her way here now."

9:48pm

When the President returned to the Oval Office, his Chief of Staff was waiting for him. Debbie warned him of Leo's presence before he went inside. He stood up at first glimpse of his president, but was waved to sit down.

"Debbie said you were in the Residence."

Jed sat in the chair across from Leo and let out a sigh.

"Yeah."

"Anything I should be concerned about?" Leo asked.

"Abbey's on her way to Bethesda with Millie."

"Is she…?"

Jed shook his head.

"I don't know."

"What happened?"

"We found a cyst," he muttered under his breath.

Leo leaned in.

"What?"

"We found a cyst, on her breast."

As the information sunk in, Leo reclined back against the chair and looked down contemplatively.

"They're gonna do some tests?"

Jed nodded.

"Yeah."

"How is she?" Leo questioned.

"You know Abbey. She's the one comforting me. I gotta hand it to her, she puts on a damn good front. Although, I think she's kicking herself right now for not giving oncology more thought."

Leo cracked a smile.

"Leo, if ever there was a time when I needed you…"

"I'm here, Mr. President. I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you," Jed said, genuinely grateful.

Leo nodded in response, then looked up when Debbie discreetly pushed the door open.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir. I've got Ryan Chappelle outside."

"Yeah, thanks."

Debbie stepped back out of the room and allowed the director of CTU to enter the Oval Offic for the first time in his life.

"Mr. President, Mr. McGarry."

"Have a seat, Ryan," Jed invited him.

"I'd better not, sir. I need to make this quick," he said, harriedly.

"What's going on?"

"Sir, Paul Crawford has just confirmed that the IRA has definite designs on an unidentified structure in the D.C. area."

Jed nodded slowly, absorbing the information. Suddenly, he stood and approached the door.

"Debbie!" He called out. "Get me Zoey's cell phone, now!"

"Yes, sir!"

Jed turned back to an expectant Leo and Chappelle.

"Don't let up on Crawford," the President told CTU's director. "I want you to extract every piece of information he's got, by any means neccesary. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"And tell Kayser that if I don't have a location for Colleen McGann in the next fifteen minutes…"

"He's got all his people on it, Mr. President."

"Sir?" Debbie called from the doorway. "Zoey on line one."

Jed walked over to his desk and picked up the phone, pressing it tightly to his ear.

"Sweetheart, I need you to stay where you are," he demanded of her. "Do not, I repeat, do not return the D.C. area under any circumstances."

9:59:57 9:59:58 9:59:59 10:00:00


	4. Chapter 4

Hour Four

The following takes place between 10:00pm and 11:00pm on January 6th, 2002, in Washington, DC unless otherwise noted.

The President slammed the phone down onto the receiver, then turned to face the window, running his fingers through his hair. Ryan Chappelle stood motionless across the room until Leo McGarry nodded to him and he took his leave. Once Chappelle had left the room, Leo slowly approached the window.

"Sir," Leo said softly.

"Yeah."

"She's safe. Liz and Ellie are safe."

Jed nodded.

"I know."

Ron Butterfield tapped lightly on the door to the office before entering. Jed and Leo turned and met him in the middle of the room.

"Mr. President, there are a few things we need to discuss."

"Let's sit down," Jed said.

Jed and Leo seated themselves on the couch and Ron positioned himself across from them.

"Sir, protocol states that, at this time, it's best to get you out of the White House and up into Air Force One. When a threat is made on this city, there are a number of likely targets and the White House is, of course, number one on that list," Ron explained. "The White House may not be the target, but frankly, that's a risk we're just not willing to take."

"Well." Jed shook his head. "I am."

"Mr. President," Leo said in protest.

"Until we have confirmation that this building has been targeted, I am not leaving. The minute I set foot on Air Force One, it opens up a huge can of worms and opens the floor to questions we're not able to answer at this time. The moment C.J. says the words no comment' to a member of the press corps is the moment widespread panic takes over this country. And that's a risk I'm not willing to take."

"Sir, it's late at night. We can get you up there without alerting members of the press…" Leo said.

"I said no, Leo. Not until we have conclusive evidence that the White House is a target."

"Yes, sir."

"Let's round up the staff. I want to let them in on this."

10:04 p.m.

When Abbey's small motorcade pulled up outside the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland, there were numerous people in uniform waiting outside. The agents helped both Abbey and Millie out of the limosine and were met by the commanding officer of the center who led them into the lobby, which was already infested with agents. Inside the lobby, Admiral Hank Armstrong, Chief of Oncology at the hospital, rushed to greet the two women.

"Dr. Bartlet. Dr. Griffith."

Admiral Armstrong shook hands with both of them and led them away from the door so they could speak privately.

"Well." He grinned nervously. "It's not every day we have both the First Lady and the Surgeon General grace us with their presence. Nice to have you here. Unfortunate circumstances of course."

"Of course," Millie said.

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Admiral," Abbey stated. "I know it's late."

"It's not a problem, Dr. Bartlet. Not a problem at all."

"You'll be administrating the tests?" Millie asked.

"Yes, ma'am, along with a few assistants," Admiral Armstrong responded. "Now, if you'd like to follow me, I'll escort you to our oncology clinic where the tests will take place."

Abbey and Millie nodded and walked alongside the Admiral as he did exactly as he proposed.

"If you'll forgive me, I don't know the specifics of your case. I was told you made this appointment at the last minute and didn't divulge any significant information."

"No, I'm sorry. It was rather short notice," Abbey agreed. "Earlier this evening, I discovered a sizeable cyst on my left breast that I hadn't noticed before. I thought it best to have it checked out as soon as possible."

"You made the right decision, ma'am," the Admiral said. "We'll do a couple of different tests, to be on the safe side, and we should have you on your way within the hour."

"How long are we looking at for the results?"

"Under twenty-four hours. It could be as little as ten hours or it could take up to the maximum. Depends on what's happening in the lab. Of course, we'll be treating your case as priority."

"Oh, that's not necessary, Admiral," Abbey said.

"It's protocol, ma'am."

"Right."

Admiral Armstrong paused in front of the clinic and opened the door.

"Right this way."

10:16 pm

The senior staff assembled themselves on the two couches in the Oval Office and Jed and Leo sat in the chairs nearby. Ron Butterfield sat on the opposite side of the couches in a mahogany chair.

"Okay," Jed began. "Listen. Ryan Chappelle came in a few minutes ago and brought it to my attention that Paul Crawford has confirmed that D.C. has been targeted. Crawford doesn't know, or hasn't yet said, whether or not the White House is in any remote danger. We just know that somewhere in the area, a bomb is set to go off. We don't know when and we don't know where. It could very well be the White House, but for all we know, it could be the British Embassy, the Capitol, and so on."

Jed looked warily at Leo, and then at Ron, before continuing.

"That being said, Leo and I are giving you the option to leave now. Of course your support and hard work is appreciated but, at this time, there is nothing specific that we need you to be doing. Therefore, none of you are essential and are free to go if you so choose."

C.J., Toby, Will, and Josh sat in silence, exchanging stoic glances. They looked back at their President, their facial expression remaining indifferent.

"No takers?" Silence. "All right then. We're thankful for your support. It will not be forgotten."

Jed stood, and as a result, all of the room's occupants did as well. He shook hands with each member of the staff and locked eyes with each of them respectively.

"You are patriots. All of you."

"Thank you, Mr. President," they all stated as they filed out of the office.

Jed, Leo, and Ron reclaimed their seats and sat in silence for one fleeting moment of time before Ron spoke up.

"Mr. President."

"Yeah."

"What do you want to do about the First Lady?"

10:21 pm

C.J. returned to her office without saying a word in response to the concerned expression on Carol's face as she walked by. She closed the door and collapsed on the couch, lost in thought. It wasn't her life she was worried about. She was expendable. It was Hogan's. Poor, unsuspecting Hogan was headed right into the storm. C.J. had no way of reaching her, no way of warning her. All she would do was wait and hope for the best.

10:26 pm

Baltimore, Maryland

The agents escorted Zoey and Jean-Paul back up the stairs to Ellie's apartment. They had been in the limosine when her father called, demanding that she stay where she was. Having heard the news themselves, the Secret Service enforced this order. Ellie welcomed them inside then she and Liz gathered to let the agents inform them briefly of the situation at hand. They didn't have clearance. There wasn't much they could be told at that time. They congregated in the living room, the girls sitting together on the couch while Jean-Paul took a seat in the chair across from them. The agents had the apartment surrounded. They had every exit covered but one.

10:34 pm

Once she had changed into a hospital gown, Abbey sat still on the plastic-covered bed in the corner of the examining room. She folded her hands in her lap and glanced down at her bare feet. Millie had requested to be in the room with her, but Abbey insisted she wait outside. This was humiliating enough as it was.

She knew the procedure. She knew there would be a needle and she knew where that needle would have to go. All her years as a doctor and she still had not reconciled herself to the use of needles. She was perfectly capable of sticking them in other people, but not quite as willing for them to puncture her own skin. Especially in certain sensitive places.

Admiral Armstrong entered the room and smiled cordially at her.

"All set, ma'am?"

Abbey laughed nervously and nodded her head with a patent uncertainty that the Admiral detected right away.

"Ma'am?"

Abbey waved him off.

"I'm fine, Admiral. Just…a tad skiddish about needles, that's all."

Admiral Armstrong paused and raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am?"

"Yes, it's true," Abbey said, smiling despite her mortification. "I'm a doctor afraid of needles. There, I've said it."

The Admiral chuckled and moved to stand beside her.

"You're not alone, Dr. Bartlet. I've met quite a few excellent doctors who share your fears."

"Well, thank God," Abbey replied. "Dr. Griffith mocks me mercilessly."

"I'll have to speak with her about that," Admiral Armstrong quipped.

"Please do."

"All right. Any last words?"

Abbey glared at him before breaking out into a grin.

"You have a way of comforting patients that is truly extraordinary, Admiral."

10:42 pm

Josh sat alone in his office with the door tightly closed and the lamp off. Streams of moonlight drifted through the window providing the only illumination in the small room. His computer screen had automatically transformed into the screensaver with the presidential seal.He rested his feet on top of his desk and leaned back in his chair as far as it would go without breaking.

Stanley had been murdered. Why? Who would murder Stanley? Josh ruminated carefully, trying to come up with all the reasons for murder possible. Money, power, revenge, information. But Stanley was only a psychiatrist. He specialized in trauma. He didn't have any patients associated with the mafia or anything. Or did he? Mafia? In Washington? Anything was possible. Maybe it was personal vendetta. Maybe Stanley used to be the school bully in junior high and the kid he used to beat up for lunch money had come back to repay him. There were innumerable possibilities.

Will Bailey passed by Josh's office and stopped a foot away. Slowly, he stepped backwards until he could see inside the open slightly ajar door. He pushed the door back, evidently with far too much force, as it slammed against the wall. Startled by the loud intrusion, Josh scrambled to swing his feet off the desk and, in doing so, exceeded the chair's limits. He toppled onto the floor, landing in a heap with the chair on top of him. Will ran into the office and behind the desk, reaching down to relocate the chair. Once Josh had been liberated from the pressure of the chair, he stood up and brushed himself off.

"Well, that was a nasty fall," Will commented.

"Yeah, I really liked the way you knocked just then."

"Sorry."

Josh picked his chair off of the floor and set it right side up.

"What's up?"

"Nothing, I just…saw that you had the lights out and I…"

"Yeah, my, uh…my lightbulb burned out," Josh explained.

Will nodded, then leaned over the desk and switched the lamp on.

"Hmm."

Josh put his hands on his hips and stared at the lamp with confusion before turning to stare at Will in awe.

"You, William Bailey, are the miracle worker."

"Thanks, Helen," Will replied. "What's going on?"

"If I tell you this, it's gonna be heavy burden on your shoulders, and I expect you to keep it to yourself."

Will sat down on the couch and leaned back.

"Go for it."

Josh positioned himself on the edge of his desk and sighed.

"Stanley Keyworth has been murdered."

Will's face remained stoic and indifferent as he digested the news. He took a deep breath and frowned.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thank you," Josh replied, solemnly.

"Who's Stanley Keyworth?"

"He's…he's my psychiatrist. He's worked with the President, he's…  
he's Stanley Keyworth!" Josh exclaimed. "Or was."

"I see," Will answered, pensively. "How was he murdered?"

"They found both gun shot and stab wounds."

"Someone must have really wanted him dead."

"Yeah. I just cannot, for the life of me, figure out who," Josh said.

"No known enemies?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Which isn't saying much," Will said.

"I thank you for that boost in my already off-the-charts morale."

"No problem."

"Like I said, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this to yourself for now," Josh said.

"I don't think that'll be a thing, since nobody around here talks to me. They talk about me, sure, both behind my back and right in front of me, but no one talks to me."

"You're gonna be grateful for that tonight, trust me."

10:49 pm

C.J. stood outside her office conversing covertly with her deputy when Carol rounded the corner. She approached them tentaively and when finally she stood beside them, C.J. took one look at Carol and nodded in a gesture for the deputy to leave. Once he had done so, Carol led them out of the way so they could speak privately.

"What is it?" C.J. asked.

"Hogan's here," Carol said, after taking a deep breath.

"Yeah, where is she?"

"She's in your office."

"Good. I need to get her out of here."

C.J. turned in the direction of her office, but was stopped by Carol's hand grasping her arm.

"C.J."

"What?"

"I just want you to be prepared. I don't think you're gonna be able to send her home."

"She has to go home, Carol. She can't be here right now. It's not safe, you know that."

"Yeah. I know. But, she's…well, she's a little…dissheveled, for lack of a better word," Carol explained.

"What do you mean, dissheveled?"

"Something's happened to her. I don't know. She only wants to talk to you."

Without a word, C.J. turned on her heels and all but flew down the hallway in pursuit of her office. When she reached the room in question, she stopped in the doorway and froze despite all her best efforts to tread further. Sitting, small and vulnerable, on her couch was a girl of only seventeen years. She wore a pink taffetta dress that had been ripped in several locations and her pink shoes both had broken heels. Her blonde hair, which appeared to have been swept up by pins earlier, was completely unkempt and her mascara had pooled with her eyeliner to form dark circles under her eyes. The sight of Hogan Cregg at that moment made it impossible for her aunt to turn her away.

10:55 p.m.

Jed Bartlet stepped out of the Oval Office, an angry scowl plain on his face, and quickly approached his secretary's desk.

"Debbie, where can I find Ryan Chappelle?"

"Uh…" Debbie hesitated, squinting as she thought. "Oh, yes. Mr. Chappelle is working out of the Roosevelt Room with a few members of his team."

"Thank you."

Both Debbie and Charlie looked on as the President stormed toward the Roosevelt Room. He burst into the room suddenly, startling the five people working diligently inside with their laptops and cellular phones. They stood at the sight of him, but he insisted they all be seated.

"Ryan." Jed cocked his head to the side. "Could I have a word please?"

"Of course, Mr. President."

Chappelle followed the President out of the room and into the side door to the Oval Office. The President slammed the door, causing Chappelle to jump only slightly.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

"Where the hell is Colleen McGann!" Jed demanded.

"Sir, I assure you, we have all our people working on it."

"I asked for McGann the first time over an hour and a half ago, and I asked for her again forty-five minutes ago. I'm not playing games here, Ryan!"

"Due respect, Mr. President, but when you say you want McGann in under fifteen minutes, there isn't a magic wand in the world that can guarantee that."

"I beg your pardon?"

"In an operation like this, sir, my team, along with both Kayser and Kaufman's teams, understand more than anyone that time is of the essence. We are constantly working under the clock. We are trained to function in disaster and prepared for every obstacle. CTU specifically is trained not to make tactical errors but the faster you push us, the higher the likelihood of a mistake increases. No one is slacking off, no one is shirking their duties. We are working as fast as we can and I promise you, no one works faster than we do. We respect and honor your leadership, Mr. President, but if you want this done right, you need to let us do our jobs."

Before the President could gather his thoughts in time to respond, Chappelle's cell phone began to ring.

"Excuse me, sir, I need to take this."

He flipped open his phone urgently and pressed it to his ear as Jed watched intently.

"Chappelle. Yeah. Are you sure? I don't want to act on this unless…  
okay. One second." Chappelle pulled the phone away from his ear and addressed the President. "Sir, I've just received word that Colleen McGann was spotted getting on a train at Union Station five minutes ago."

"Has that train already left?" Jed asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Do we know where?"

"It's the Carolina line and it's on its way back from New Orleans. This is the train that runs from Louisiana to New York."

"Any guesses where she might be headed?"

"Nothing worth noting, sir."

"All right. I want all stations where that train is scheduled to stop on the look out. I want a picture of McGann sent to the head of security at every station. I don't want her to so much as set foot on the sidewalk."

"Yes, sir."

"Ryan?"

"Yes, Mr. President."

"You think we're gonna get her?" Jed asked uncertainly.

"I don't know, sir. But I know she's not done yet."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sir, right now, the best thing Colleen McGann cando to ensure her own safety is to get out of the country where we can't touch her. Instead, she's on a train headed up to New York. If there was nothing left for her to do, she'd be on a plane to Ireland right now. She's not done yet."

10:59:57 10:59:58 10:59:59 11:00:00


	5. Chapter 5

Hour Five

The following takes place between 11:00pm and 12:00am on January 6th, 2002, in Washington, DC unless otherwise noted.

Millie stood up with a certain urgency when Abbey appeared in the lobby. The doctor turned patient was clearly summoning all of her strength and apathy in order to maintain her cool, calm exterior. Her fear and uncertainty was not evident to innocent bystanders but, to her best friend, nothing could have been more obvious. Millie sped toward her and stopped when there was a foot between them.

"Awe. Did the mean doctor poke you with his big, sharp needle?"

In keeping with Millie's intentions, all traces of Abbey's fear and uncertainty vanished with the simple roll of her eyes.

"The Admiral said he's gonna have a talk with you about that," Abbey said.

"The Admiral works for me, sweetheart. I sign his checks."

"No, you don't."

"No, I don't," Millie conceded nonchalantly. "How'd it go?"

"Less painful than I imagined."

"Did he give you a My Little Pony sticker afterwards?"

"Several."

"Oh, good."

Millie smiled warmly and draped an arm around her best friend's shoulders.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," Abbey said, softly, smiling at Millie reassuringly.

"Good. Let's get out of here, shall we?"

"Excuse me, Mrs. Bartlet!"

Both Abbey and Millie turned around to look in the direction of the reception desk across the room where a nurse was addressing them.

"I have the President on the phone for you."

Millie kept her place while Abbey approached the desk. She smiled politely at the nurse and took the phone when it was offered to her.

"Jed?"

She heard from breathe a sigh of relief before responding and smiled to herself.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine," Abbey insisted.

"The tests went okay?"

"They went fine. How's everything there?"

"You didn't pass out when you saw the needle?" Jed asked.

"You and Millie should really take your act on the road. How is everything there?"

"About ten hours or so before the results are available?"

"Jed!" Abbey exclaimed suddenly. "For the last hour, I have been put through rigorous testing to find out if I do, in fact, have breast cancer. I am not in the mood to crack your evasive, cryptic codes. So, I'm gonna ask you again. How is everything there?"

She could hear him hesitate before answering her and instantly regretted being so impatient with him.

"It's all gone to hell, Abbey. I don't feel like I have any control over the situation anymore. Everything's out of my hands."

"No progress?"

"None to speak of."

"Well," She began softly. "You didn't really expect this to go away in five hours, did you?"

"I don't know what I expected."

"Brendan McGann is not a force to be reckoned with."

"We'll see about that," Jed replied. "Anyway, listen. The reason I'm calling."

"And here I was thinking this was just a courtesy call. Thought maybe you just called you say I love you, Stevie Wonder."

"I do, but unfortunately there's more to it. Abbey, I need you to stay where you are."

"What! What are you talking about?" Abbey questioned sharply.

"We just got word that the IRA has targeted at least one structure in Washington."

"Jesus," she whispered, more to herself than any other. "Ron's taking you up to Air Force One, right?"

"No," Jed replied. "He's not."

"Jed. Tell me you didn't…"

"I can't go up there, Abbey. It'll lead to mass panic and that will only make things worse."

"I don't care what it'll lead to, Jed, you get your ass up into that plane."

"Abbey, please."

"What does Ron have to say about this?"

"It's my call," Jed replied.

"That's not what I asked. Does he want you up in Air Force One?"

"He may have mentioned it."

"Uh-huh. So it's okay for you to order me to stay put, out of harm's way, but you can sit right in the eye of the storm and nobody can tell you otherwise?"

"I have a job to do, Abbey."

"You can't do that job on Air Force One?"

"Not the way it needs to be done, no."

"God, you are a stubborn son of a bitch," Abbey muttered. "What about Leo? The staff? Are you evacuating or what?"

"No, no. We're not evacuating. We're not there yet."

"If I'm not mistaken, the White House is number one on the list of likely targets in the city. How are you justifying this?"

"We don't have confirmation that the White House is the target yet."

"What are you waiting for? A thousand Irish mercenaries to jump the gates, take down all the agents, and swarm the building!"

"Hey, don't give them any ideas, this line may be tapped."

"Jed."

"What do you want me to say, Abbey? I've made my decision. It's the only decision I've been able to make all night. I am asking that you stay where you are for your own safety. I can't do the job if knowing that you're headed right into the storm."

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay."

"You'll stay?"

Abbey glanced back at Millie, who held her post about ten yards away.

"Yeah."

"Thank you," Jed said genuinely. "Listen, I've got to get back. I'll call you as soon as I can, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

"I love you."

"I love you too." She paused. "Jed."

"Hmm?"

"Take care of yourself."

11:11pm

"Drink this."

CJ handed her niece a bottle of Deer Park water, then sat down next to her on the couch in her office.

"Thanks," Hogan replied feebly.

CJ watched in awe as she devoured nearly half the bottle in under twenty seconds, then placed it on the table.

"I wish I had an extra pair of sweatpants or something that you could change into."

"It's okay."

"So…would you like to tell me what happened? If you're not comfortable…"

"I'm ready to talk," Hogan insisted.

"Okay," CJ said soothingly, placing her hand on top of hers.

"I probably mentioned this to you, but last night, we had our Winter Ball at school. It's like a…themed formal dance. This year, it was an evening in New York, our theme. I went with Alex Cirrone, this

kid in my grade. We've kind of been dating on and off since September. Anyway, he had to leave early because of a family emergency, one of his grandparents in the hospital or something. At the end of the night, I didn't have anyone to drive me home, because Dad and Nicole were out. So Mr. Grant, my Calc teacher, offered to bring me home. On the way, he took this…back road I had never been on, said it was faster. The road was completely dead, like one passing car every five minutes. Then we saw a car parked on the side of the road. We figured it had broken down, so Mr. Grant pulled over. When we got close enough, we could hear this…muffled screaming from inside the car. Mr. Grant told me to stay where I was, got out, and…Alex was in the car. He was with Amanda Sobel, she's in my Calc class too. He was…he was…"

Hogan's tears were falling freely at this point, and CJ wasn't fairing much better. She held her nieces hand tighter as she continued.

"He was raping her. Her screams got louder as Mr. Grant got closer to the car and she noticed him. Finally Alex noticed him too, right when Mr. Grant opened the door and dragged him out of the backseat. They started to…fight, and Amanda ran out of Alex's car and jumped in with me. We just sat there…watching them. I mean, we didn't know what the hell to do…it was like we were an audience or something. Next thing we knew, Alex had knocked Mr. Grant unconscious and he…"

"It's okay," CJ whispered, wiping the tears from her face. "It's okay."

"He came for us. First he…he raped Amanda and he made me…watch. Made me watch him do it. Said if I closed my eyes even for a second, I would be next. But I knew it didn't matter. I knew I was next no matter what I did. And when he…finished with Amanda, I was next."

"Oh, Hogan."

"Amanda was just…screaming, screaming for help while he was…you know. I just closed my eyes and tried not to make a sound. I thought it would go by quicker that way if I just…did what he said. When he was done, he dragged Amanda back into his car and just drove off without a word."

"My God."

"I drove Mr. Grant to the hospital, more like dropped him off. I didn't tell them what happened. I couldn't. And after that, I just couldn't go home. I couldn't face my father."

"So you came here."

"Yeah," Hogan whispered. "I came here."

CJ wrapped her arms around the teenager and pulled her close, rubbing her back in continuous circular motion.

"It's gonna be okay," CJ said. "I promise you, it is going to be okay."

"I can stay here with you for a little while?"

CJ hesitated, then nodded.

"Of course you can."

11:19pm

Josh halted in front of Leo McGarry's closed office door. Will, who had to think fast in order not to slam into his back, stopped and glanced at him curiously.

"It's really pretty easy you know," Will said. "You just reach out, grab the doorknob, twist it to the left and…"

Josh snapped out of his days and glared at his colleague.

"Could you not? Just, you know."

Will held his hands up in a gesture of surrendar.

"Okay."

Josh reached out, grabbed the doorknob, twisted it to the left and…

Leo McGarry flung open the door and lurched back at the sight of his two anxious employees.

"What the hell…"

"Hey, Leo," Will said, casually, smirking at a dumbfounded Josh.

"How you doin'?"

"Josh here has something he would like to tell you."

"Josh doesn't look like he has anything to tell anyone," Leo said, backing away from the door to allow them to enter. "I only have a minute or two, then I have a thing with Walt Kaufman."

"Josh?"

Will jabbed him in the ribs, forcing him to allocate ninety percent of his attention span for that particular moment.

"Uh, yeah. Leo, Stanley Keyworth was murdered tonight," Josh blurted out suddenly.

Leo furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"What!"

"Stanley Keyworth was…"

"Yeah, I heard you."

Leo collapsed down onto his couch and wrung his hands together distraughtly.

"Do they know who did it?" He asked.

"No. No leads as of an hour ago."

"We have to tell the President."

"Now?" Will asked. "Are you sure it's the right time?"

"No, I'm not," Leo admitted. "But he's gonna find out sooner or later and I'd prefer he hear it from one of us. I have to go to this meeting with Kaufman, but when I come back, Josh, I want you to be ready to talk to the President."

11:26 pm

Toby Ziegler powerwalked through the Communications Bullpen, shouting about something or other to Bonnie and Ginger who didn't dare argue with him. Not tonight. He entered his office and slammed the door behind him, quickly sitting down in the chair behind his desk. He picked up the phone and begandialing frantically. He waited for three rings before the desired party finally answered the phone.

"Andy, it's me. I'm sorry about that. Yeah. Listen, I need you to get out of the city. I'm not kidding, Andy. I want you to go stay with your parents in Maryland. I swear to God, Andy, if you listen to me just once in your lifetime, let it be now. Yes. I can't tell you that. I can't tell you that either. You're just gonna have to trust me. No, now. You have to leave now. I'll call you when I can. Thank you. Yeah. Bye."

Toby replaced the phone onto the receiver, then leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily, rubbing his forehand in exhasperation.

11:37 pm

Abbey bolted out of the plastic chair in the lobby of the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda and began pacing the immediate area. Millie, still seated, dipped her head back and groaned.

"I can't do this," Abbey said.

"Stop pacing," Millie replied, lifting her head up. "Come back and sit down."

Abbey shook her hand and continued her anxious laps around the room.

"It's been over half an hour, Millie. He hasn't called."

"He's busy! He's trying to prevent this country from being attacked by Irish terroists, Abbey. He's got a lot on his mind."

"I'm calling him."

"Sit down," Millie ordered her.

Abbey sighed and reluctantly returned to her seat beside the Surgeon General.

"I'm not a sit back and watch kind of gal, Millie."

"I know you're not."

"You're not either."

"I know I'm not."

Abbey glared at her.

"Millie."

"What the hell do you want me to say, Abbey? I have no jurisdiction over this situation," Millie said.

"I'll ask Grace."

Millie grabbed her by the arm and forced her into her seat before she could get away.

"Sit down, Abbey. Your agents don't know anymore than you do."

"How do you know?"

"I know. And if they did, I bet they can't tell you anyway."

Abbey nodded pensively.

"You know…at my birthday party last year, in between making inappropriate comments and getting drunk with Toby, Lord John Marbury would not shut up about Brendan McGann."

"What about him?" Millie questioned.

"He kept saying that he couldn't come to the White House. The Queen was adament about it, as was he, and now…"

"Go figure."

"Yeah," Abbey whispered. "Go figure."

11:46pm

Josh and Leo stood motionless in the Oval Office, watching as the President reacted to the news of Stanley Keyworth's murder. Jed pulled off his glasses and slowly moved toward the couch. When he had lowered himself onto the cushions, he leaned back and rubbed his temples.

"When?" He asked quietly.

"About three hours ago, sir," Josh replied.

"And you spoke with the police?"

"Yeah. They don't know anything yet. I've been checking in with Lieutenant Hopkins down at the precinct fairly regularly."

"Is anybody looking into whether or not this is connected to the IRA threat?" Jed questioned.

"Well, we haven't ruled it out, sir," Leo answered. "It could be completely unrelated, but of course, being that Stanley was a counselor to both the President and his deputy Chief of Staff and who knows how many other government officials…it's not an unfair assumption."

"Stanley Keyworth," Jed said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Who the hell would want to murder Stanley?"

"I don't know, sir," Josh said. "But we're gonna find out."

11:51pm

Ellie Bartlet emerged from the kitchen of her apartment carrying a tray which held four steaming hot cups of tea. When she walked in the living room, she placed the tray down onto the coffee table and invited her guests to each take one. She curled up on the loveseat with her older sister and held her mug against her chest, tracing her fingers along the rim contemplatively. Jean-Paul, who had been persuaded hours ago against speaking unless absolutely neccesary, glanced warily at his girlfriend, who would not meet his gaze.

"Did you call Doug?" Ellie asked.

Liz nodded.

"While you were in the kitchen."

"The kids are fine?"

"Yeah, they're fine," Liz answered.

"Ellie, put on the news," Zoey suggested.

"It's not gonna be on the news," Liz said.

"How do you know?"

"Dad probably told CJ to keep it under wraps to avoid widespread panic. A mass exodus out of D.C. would be a sight, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Zoey replied quietly. "I hate this."

"Has anyone tried calling Mom?" Ellie asked abruptly.

"You think we should?" Zoey responded.

Ellie stood up and walked over to the phone.

"I'm calling her cell."

"She's probably just in the Residence."

"Cell is faster."

Ellie picked up the cordless phone and began dialing the numbers quickly. She pressed the phone against her ear and waited. After six rings, she hung up.

"No answer?"

"No, I just hung up on her as soon as she picked up," Ellie replied sarcastically.

Liz and Zoey exchanged bewildered glances.

"I'm sorry," Ellie said.

Liz reached her arm out and pulled her back down onto the couch.

"Sit down."

"I'm sure she's fine," Zoey assumed. "She probably just doesn't have her cell with her. Don't worry about it."

"I hope you're right."

11:56pm

The President, still relatively preoccupied by the news of Stanley Keyworth's death, sat in the Roosevelt Room with Walt Kaufman and Rick Kayser, debating strategies relating to the impending detainment of Colleen McGann. That is, if McGann was ever actually found, a possibility that was becoming less and less likely as the hours passed. In the middle of their discussion on methods of interrogation, Ryan Chappelle burst into the room suddenly, causing each of them to jump out of their seats, rife with anticipation.

"Mr. President, I just got off the phone with one of my agents in charge of debriefing and interrogating Paul Crawford down at CTU Headquarters. Although he would not divulge the IRA's actual intentions, Crawford has finally admitted that the White House is absolutely not the target."

Jed refrained from his instincts to rejoice and his expression remained solemn and concerned.

"How do we know he's not trying to throw us off?"

"We gave him a polygraph. My agents would not have come to me if they weren't one hundred percent certain of their information," Ryan explained.

"Okay." Jed nodded. "If the White House isn't the target…"

Anticipating the rest of hisstatement, both Kayser and Kaufman nodded in assent.

"We need to evacuate the Capitol Building."

"Yes, sir. We're on it."

11:59:57 11:59:58 11:59:59 12:00:00

TBC. 


	6. Chapter 6

Hour Six

The following takes place between 12:00am and 1:00am on January 7th, 2002, in Washington, DC unless otherwise noted.

"What do you want to do?"

Hogan hesitated, staring intently down at her half-empty bottle of Deer Park. She glanced up at her aunt tentatively, weighing the options in her head. She had never thought of what she was going to do. All she found herself doing was replaying the traumatic events in her mind, over and over again. Her thoughts were entirely wrapped around the past and could not stretch forward to the future. That was why she had come to CJ.

"I don't know," she finally answered, with all the authenticity she could muster up.

Preceded by a gentle knock on the door, Carol entered the room stealthily.

"CJ."

CJ looked up, and Hogan continued to look down.

"Yeah."

"Oval Office."

"Okay."

Carol scurried out of the office and CJ immediately stood.

"I'm sorry, I need to go take care of something."

"It's okay." Hogan shrugged. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay."

CJ smiled sympathetically at her, then quickly left the room.

12:03am

When CJ reached the Oval Office, Toby, Josh, and Will were already assembled on the couches in the room. Jed and Leo stood by the desk conversing covertly, stopping when CJ finally arrived. They took their places in the chairs before the senior staff and regarded them silently for a moment before bluntly making the announcement.

"We just had to evacuate the Capitol Building," Jed said finally.

"It was officially confirmed that the White House is not the target, making the Capitol the most likely target," Leo explained.

"Granted, there weren't a great deal of people in the building at this time of night, but it is closed down until further notice."

"Is Crawford still our only source of information?" Josh asked.

"Yeah, for now," Leo replied.

"Until we get Colleen McGann," Jed said.

"If we get Colleen McGann," Leo amended, glancing at the President.

"We'll get her."

"Are you evacuating any other buildings? The British Embassy?" Will questioned.

"Not yet. We're waiting on more information from Crawford."

"Sir, as of right now," Toby began. "Is there anything else we can do to stop this?"

"Unfortunately, no," Jed answered. "We're going on what few leads we have right now, Crawford and McGann."

"Essentially we're just waiting," Toby said.

"Yeah. Essentially."

"What about the press?" CJ asked.

"We can't," Leo answered succinctly.

"You just evacuated the Capitol Building. You don't think people are gonna start asking questions?"

"I didn't say that. I'm saying, you're not gonna answer any of them."

"CJ," Jed said. "We don't know when or where this attack is going to take this, except that it won't be at the White House. The entire city is going to engage in a mass exodus into Maryland and Virginia if this gets out. We can't risk that. You understand, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," CJ replied, quietly.

"Good."

The President stood, his actions emulated by his staff.

"That's all. We'll let you know when we have more information."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

Jed thanked them in return and they summarily filed out of the office. Jed turned to Leo, looking upon gravely.

"How long do you think this is gonna last?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, sir."

"Leo, are we doing enough?"

Understanding the inherent meaning to the statement, Leo nodded.

"We're doing everything in our power, Mr. President."

"Yeah," Jed replied. "But is it enough?"

12:11 am

Jean-Paul tried to pull Zoey out of their earshot, but achieving that feat seemed near impossible. There appeared to be few things Ellie and Elizabeth didn't hear or were not aware of. They were always on guard around him, choosing their words carefully and exchanging secret glances. Of course, his desire to be excepted by Zoey's family was little more than nonexistent, so he tended not to mind all that much. Like them, he was not keen on openly expressing himself in their presence. But he could not get away.

"What is it?" Zoey asked, leaning in closer to him.

"I don't think I should go," Jean-Paul whispered in return.

"You have to go. You have that thing in the morning. You'll never make it from Baltimore."

"I'm not comfortable leaving you alone here."

"You mean alone with my two older sisters and about fifteen Secret Service agents surrounding the apartment?" Zoey laughed.

"You know what I mean."

"I'm fine, Jean-Paul. Go."

"If you're certain."

"I am."

"All right." He smiled. "Say goodbye to your sisters for me, I think I'm just going to goose out."

Zoey squinted and dropped her jaw in confusion, then exploded in laughter when she realized what his intended phrase had been. Damn language barrier.

"Duck out?"

"What did I say?" Jean-Paul asked.

"Goose out," Zoey said in between giggles.

He frowned.

"At least my English is better than your father's French."

"Don't let him hear you say that!"

12:18 am

"This is a bad idea."

Millie reluctantly followed Abbey into a secluded entrance to the White House, numerous agents trailing close behind them.

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"This is the part of the movie where everything falls apart," Millie lamented.

"You are such a baby."

They flashed their brightest smiles to the staffers they past once inside the building, though their tones in exchanging dialogue with each other remained sardonic.

"He told us to stay in Bethesda."

"And we did stay in Bethesda," Abbey replied.

"Yeah, until we left!"

"A minute detail."

"Abbey, he is not going to like this."

"What's he gonna do, ground us?"

"He does have the power to do so."

"Then he should have called."

Millie halted her movements in front of the Roosevelt Room, causing Abbey to whirl around and raise a curious eyebrow.

"You know what? I'm gonna go to Leo's office and hide. Wait! I mean wait."

Abbey rolled her eyes.

"Suit yourself."

She turned into the outer office and briefly greeted Charlie and Debbie who were stationed at their desks. After learning that the President was in the Oval with only Leo, Abbey proceeded to enter the room without so much as a knock. Both Jed and Leo glanced up, startled, from the document their eyes were focused on. Jed dropped the paper onto his desk and pulled his glasses off. Leo took one look at the shocked expression on the President's face, and one look on the determined one on the First Lady's and quickly excused himself into the outer office rather than his own. Once the door had closed behind him, Jed took a step toward his wife.

"What the hell are you doing here!"

"You're quite the welcoming committee. No wonder they keep you away from the tour groups."

"Abbey." He glared at her.

"Look, I know you're upset but I made the decision to come back. It was my decision to make, not yours. You try going through these agonizing tests for breast cancer without your husband, knowing that he could be attacked by terrorists at any moment. I couldn't just sit there and wait. You know me better than that. Forgive me if I sound like a martyr, but if you go down, I go down. Got it?"

His lips formed a half-smile, his eyes shining.

"It's okay," Jed said quietly. "The White House has been cleared. It's no longer considered a target."

A wave of relief washed over her face and she all but ran into his arms. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and his clasped his hand around her waist, burying his face into her shoulder and lifting her an inch off the ground.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't be there with you," he said in a broken whisper.

She eased herself back onto the ground, making sure to keep their arms in place. She leaned her forehead against his for a moment until the threat of tears subsided. Her eyes, glistening with unshed tears, looked into his and she smiled.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't be here with you," Abbey replied.

She took his face in her hands in and kissed him full on the mouth. It was a kiss filled with a mixture of relief, love, comfort, and fear; the emotion embedded deeply within it startled him.

"It's okay now. We're okay," she said, gently caressing his cheek. "As God is my witness, we will make it through this night."

He pulled her tighter to him and ran his hands up and down her back soothingly.

"Is this what you meant when you said I had lots of nights?" Jed asked, combining both sarcasm and sincerity.

"I don't know," Abbey replied. "We'll have to see where we are in the morning, I guess."

12:31 am

When Leo finally returned to his office, he jumped at the sight of Millie sprawled out comfortably on his couch. Without saying a word to her, he opened his office door once more and called out to Margaret.

"Thanks for the heads up there, Margaret!"

She didn't respond, but she could imagine her expression. Millie stood up to greet him, frowning at the waves of stress that were just emanating from his body.

"You should take a break."

"Yeah, too bad there's an international crisis I have to deal with," Leo replied.

"Drink some water."

"I've had about six cups of coffee."

"Ironically not the same thing as water. I'll have Margaret get you some," Millie said, heading for the door.

"Millie."

The urgency in his voice stopped her in her tracks. She spun around to face him. Instantly reading his unspoken thoughts, she nodded her head and backed away from the door.

"Okay."

"I thought the President ordered you to stay at Bethesda," Leo commented, rummaging through a pile of documents on his desk.

"He did."

"I'm sure he appreciates your complete compliance."

"Are you making any progress?" Millie asked, quietly.

"None to speak of."

"Are you lying to me because I don't have clearance?"

He looked her in the eyes and shook his head.

"No."

"I don't suppose there's anything I can do," she said.

"Yeah, you can stay here."

"I can't stay here," Millie responded immediately.

"The White House is the only structure in Washington that we know for certain is not under attack."

"No one's planning to bomb the Surgeon General's house, Leo. I promise you."

"Still, I'd feel better if you were in the building," Leo said. Upon noticing her unchanged expression, he continued. "You know how hard it is for me to…"

"I know," she replied softly. "And I appreciate your concern for me. I do. But I can't stay here. For one thing, I left my door unlocked this morning and every minute I spend away from home is a moment I'm envisioning my living room completely empty. Plus, I have work to do on my laptop at home."

"I'll send someone to go get it, and lock your doors on the out," Leo offered.

She smiled and touched his cheek lightly.

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"Millie…"

"I'll be fine."

12:41 am

CJ cautiously entered the Oval Office, careful not to disturb the hard at work president. She closed the door behind her, causing him to grant her most of his attention.

"What's up, Claudia Jean?"

She approached his desk slowly, hesitant to look him in the eye.

"CJ?"

"Yes, sir. Sir, I'm sorry, I know this isn't the time, but there's something I need to ask you."

"Fire away."

"Do you remember my niece, Hogan?" CJ questioned.

"Yes, is that what you needed to ask me?"

"No, sir. Hogan is here. She arrived about an hour ago after essentially running away."

"Is there a problem at home?" Jed questioned.

"Not quite at home, sir. This, obviously, is a very delicate subject matter and I hesitate to burden you with it, but I'm afraid I have to. Hogan was sexually assaulted following her senior prom last night. She came to me for help and I…sir, I wanted to ask your permission to take Hogan to the hospital. I'll be back as soon as possible and if anything happens, one phone call and I'm back at the White House, I just…"

"Of course you can go, CJ," Jed said without hesitation. "And take your time. That poor girl needs you more than ever right now."

"Thank you, Mr. President," CJ said, genuinely grateful.

"Take good care of her, CJ."

"Yes, sir."

12:51 am

He kissed her quickly on the lips and watched pensively as she sauntered away from his office. Although she had not chosen to heed his advice, he knew she would be all right. She was stronger than he was and extremely capable of taking care of herself.

"Leo."

He turned his head in Margaret's direction and observed her uncertain facial expression.

"Still no luck with the Irish Ambassador?"

"I can't reach anyone at his office."

"You've tried him at home?" Leo asked.

"Several times."

"All right, tell the Service to find him and bring him here within the hour. Tonight of all nights, I am not playing games with Sheridan. Tell them to make it clear that his job is on the line if he doesn't make himself readily available to us immediately."

"I'm on it."

"And get me a bottle of water!"

12:56 am

The President's Chief of Staff from his office to the Oval and shut the door firmly behind him. The President was sitting behind his desk, staring thoughtfully ahead of him. Leo sat down in the chair beside the desk and waited to be noticed. After moment, inevitably, he was.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Anything?" Jed asked.

"Other than Sheridan being MIA, nothing."

"You can't get a hold of Sheridan? Didn't I ask for him about three hours ago?"

"Most likely," Leo replied. "The Service is gonna find him and bring him in."

"Did you tell them to check all the pubs in the city?"

"I think that's implied, sir."

Jed smiled faintly.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"You spoke to Abbey?" Leo asked.

"Yeah, a little awhile ago."

"How is she?"

"Hanging in there," Jed responded. "She went up to the Residence. Did you see Millie?"

"Yeah, she just headed home."

"You know, this may seem like an odd time to tell you this, but I like her with you."

"You didn't like her without me?" Leo smirked.

"You know what I mean, smartass. The two of you, together. I like it."

"I'm thrilled, Mr. President."

"Now you know what it's like to be involved with a doctor. It never ends."

"No, sir, it certainly doesn't."

"Excuse me, sir, Leo." Debbie popped her head in the office.

"Yeah."

"I have Ryan Chappelle."

"Send him in."

Leo and Jed stood to meet the director of CTU in the middle of the office.

"Ryan."

"Mr. President. Mr. McGarry."

"What do you got?" Jed questioned.

"Sir, we have a location on Colleen McGann."

"It's about time! Have you apprehended her?"

"No, sir, we just got an I.D. on her. The Baltimore PD is on it."

"She's in Baltimore?"

"Yes, sir."

"Baltimore," Jed whispered to himself.

"Sir?" Ryan said quizzically.

"Mr. President?" Leo said, matching Ryan's tone.

"The girls are in Baltimore."

"I'm sorry, sir, did you just say…?"

"All three First Daughters are in Baltimore," Leo clarified, sharing the President's concern.

"Sir, will you excuse me for a moment?"

Jed nodded wordlessly. Ryan pulled out his cell phone, dialed a number, and pressed it to his ear.

"Yeah, it's Chappelle. I need you to forget all precautions, I don't care if she sees you coming. When you have her in your sight, don't hesitate. All three First Daughters are in the area. I repeat, all three First Daughters are in the immediate area."

12:59:57 12:59:58 12:59:59 1:00:00

TBC. 


	7. Chapter 7

Hour Seven

The following takes place between 1:00am and 2:00am on January 7th, 2002, in Washington, DC unless otherwise noted.

The President slammed his fist down on the Resolution Desk.

"Damnit!"

Leo McGarry nodded to Ryan Chappelle, who quickly disappeared from the room without a word. Leo slowly approached the President, leaving a foot of distance in between them.

"Sir."

"We were supposed to have McGann in custody hours ago, Leo! She was not supposed to hit the streets."

"We'll get her in time, sir," Leo assured him.

"How the hell did she get out of the station!"

"I don't know, Mr. President. We'll find out."

"We had all of security working on this. How could they let something like this happen?"

Leo could only nod silently in response.

"I want the head of security on the phone sometime in the next hour," Jed demanded.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. President."

"Why the hell not? Because of him, my girls have been left wide open to an attack."

"First of all, that's not entirely true, sir. Second, talking to the head of security isn't going to change anything. Quite frankly, it's a waste of your time."

"What's not entirely true?"

"Your assessment of the situation in Baltimore," Leo replied. "There's no conclusive evidence to suggest the girls are in danger. To say nothing of the fact that all three of their details are present, McGann could be headed anywhere. She could be trying to throw us off. There's no telling what she's up to."

"Why doesn't that make me feel better?" Jed shook his head in disbelief. "First Abbey, now this."

"We're gonna get this under control, sir. The Baltimore PD has a location on McGann, and CTU's got field agents dispatched in the area. They're tracking her. She's not gonna get far."

"Why did Chappelle tell them not to hesitate, to go right in after her? That wasn't the original plan?"

"No, sir," Leo answered. "I'd have to confirm this with Chappelle, but my assumption is they were going to try to follow her and see if she leads us anywhere."

"You think that IRA has some kind of headquarters in Baltimore?" Jed asked doubtfully.

"It probably wouldn't be so much of a headquarters as a basement underneath a used bookstore."

Jed moved to the middle of the room and sat down on the couch, wringing his hands together anxiously.

"Leo, I swear to God, if anything happens to them…"

"Nothing is going to happen to them, sir. I have complete confidence in CTU, in the Service, and in the Baltimore PD. Colleen McGann may be Brendan McGann's daughter, but she is exactly that and nothing more. A novice at best. We'll get her."

1:07

Josh propped his feet up on his desk and leaned back in his chair. Donna sat in the chair before his desk and tossed an empty soda can into the wastebasket nearby. She folded her hands in her lap as her eyes aimlessly wandered around the room.

"What can I do? There has to be something I can do," Josh muttered.

She looked up.

"What?"

"About Stanley."

"What could you possibly do? The man is dead, Josh. There was nothing you could do to stop it, nothing you can do to change it."

"I hate being uninformed. You know how I hate being uninformed."

Donna furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"I want to be kept in the know as far as the investigation is concerned," Josh replied.

"It's one in the morning. I don't think there's much of an investigation going on as we speak."

"Yeah, but soon there will be, and I'll be kept in the dark."

Donna nodded pensively, her eyes glazing over in thought. One heavy, silent moment later, her face lit up and she squirmed in her seat.

"What?" Josh asked, monotonously.

"Have you ever read any of Margaret Truman's books?"

He wasn't sure he wanted to have any part of this particular conversation, but he had nothing to lose by appeasing her.

"…Harry's daughter?"

"Yeah, she wrote about a thousand mystery books set in Washington. Murder at the Potomac, Murder at the Supreme Court, Murder at Union Station, Murder at the National Cathedral, Murder at the…"

"At the what, Donna?" Josh asked, knowing full well what she was holding back.

"Murder at the White House."

"Okay. What about them?"

"In Murder at the White House, the Secretary of State was murdered in the Residence."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm getting there, hold on. After the Secretary's murder, the President wanted someone from inside the White House working the investigation. So, he issued an executive order allowing for a member of his senior staff to head the investigation."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, why don't you talk to the President and…"

Josh immediately shook his head.

"Oh, no. No. I can't do that."

"Why not? I mean, no one's saying you have to head the whole investigation, God knows you're too inexperienced for that."

Josh glared at her, and she continued unperturbed.

"Just work yourself into the investigation somehow. The President does a thing, the police include you in their investigation, give you some minor jurisdiction. That way they're still in control, but you're kept in the loop."

"What's in it for the President?"

"It's gonna get out that Stanley worked with both you and the President. By having someone represent the White House, it will show he's taking an active hand in the investigation."

Josh shrugged and shook his head uncertainly.

"I don't know, Donna."

"Just run it past him. What do you have to lose?"

"Well, for one thing, the President has bigger fish to fry right now."

"He's sitting his office waiting for information and yelling at Ryan Chappelle. I think he's got a few minutes to spare," Donna replied.

Josh stood up and placed his hands on his hips as he looked at his assistant.

"I can't believe I'm taking career advice from Margaret Truman."

1:15

When Abbey Bartlet had returned to the Residence a half an hour earlier, she waltzed straight into her bedroom. Without delay, she shed her business attire and jumped in the shower. Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed and replenished. She donned a red silk bathrobe and tightened the tie around her waist then sat on the edge of her bed. For a few silent moments, she stared vacantly at the telephone before finally picking it up and dialing. She held it against her ear and waited impatiently for someone to pick up the other line.

"Hello?"

"Hi, sweetie."

"Mom."

Abbey could sense the relief in her middle daughter's voice when she breathed her name. She could also hear the commotion in the background when her other two girls realized she was on the phone. Ellie shushed them.

"Where are you? We've been trying to get a hold of you all night!"

"I've been around. Haven't been in one place for very long."

"Is everything okay?"

Abbey took a deep breath before responding.

"Sure. Everything's fine, honey."

Before Ellie could get another word in, the phone was snatched from her and Zoey's voice permeated the airwaves.

"Mom?"

"Zoey."

"What's going on? Why are the agents keeping us here? Is Dad okay?"

"Whoa, whoa. Calm down, sweetie. There's been a threat made against the U.S., Washington specifically, and they just want to get things under control before they let you leave, that's all."

"That's all?" Zoey asked in disbelief.

"That's all I can tell you, yes."

Seconds later, Liz's voice replaced Zoey's on the line.

"Why couldn't we get a hold of you earlier?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Elizabeth."

"Mom."

"As I told Elllie, I haven't been in one place for very long," Abbey explained.

"Why?"

"They…kept moving me around for safety reasons."

"I don't buy it," Liz said after a pause.

"It's the truth."

"It doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't?"

"All of it. Why would they be moving you around if there's an emergency? Why wouldn't they just put you in the bunker?"

Abbey could feel her oldest daughter's skepticism and knew immediately that her choices were limited. She was foolish to think she would be able to fool three such intelligent young women. She took a moment to prepare herself for their various reactions, then took the plunge.

"Honey, you want to put me on speaker phone please?"

She heard the change in noise immediately when Liz had done as she asked.

"The truth is, I've been at the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda." She paused to see if there was any reaction. When she was met with only an anxious silence, she continued. "There is a cyst on my left breast and I needed to have some tests done."

All Abbey could hear was their involuntary gasps and frantic, muffled whispers. As the product of two such articulate parents, it was rare that they were rendered speechless.

"It's probably nothing," Abbey said quickly.

"When will you know?" Ellie asked quietly.

"Sometime in the morning, I imagine. Give or take."

"Call us the moment you find out," Zoey demanded.

"I will, honey."

1:26

The Surgeon General hopped out of the cab after paying the driver and slammed the car door shut. She walked the few feet of sidewalk that separated her from the steps of her townhouse then stopped when she reached them. Her eyes surveyed the area suspiciously, scanning for minute details. The windows were closed. Despite the typical January chill in the air, she had left the windows open due to a little mishap in the kitchen. She had gotten up earlier than Leo, a major precedent, to make him breakfast. Things hadn't quite gone as planned and the result was a smell that not only woke Leo up, but sent him running out the door earlier than usual.

Cautiously, Millie ascended the cement steps until she noticed one of her potted plants was tipped over beside the front door. Maybe she was being paranoid. She must have closed the windows before she left for work and knocked over the plant while running away from the hideous odor. Of course.

She didn't bother rummaging through her purse to find her key, as she distinctly remembered leaving the door open in her race to escape the smell. But the doorknob wouldn't budge.

It was locked.

1:37

CJ and Hogan sat in the emergency room at GW in complete silence, observing the other ailing people that surrounded them. There appeared to be more than one broken arm, a old man with severe asthma, a teenager covering her ear with her palm, and a woman in the corner with a bloody nose that seemed never to stop. Hogan squirmed in her plastic seat uncomfortably and looked up at CJ.

"Aunt CJ?"

"Yeah."

"I think maybe we better go," Hogan whispered.

"Go? Why?"

"These people clearly need medical attention way worse than I do. I mean, look at them. My health isn't in jeopardy here."

"That, Hogan, is a matter of opinion," CJ replied.

"You know what I mean. Come on, let's go."

When Hogan stood, CJ immediately pulled her back down.

"No dice."

"We can come back in the morning."

"In the morning, I'm bringing you back to your father so unless you want to do this with him…"

"Okay, okay." Hogan leaned back in her chair and sulked. "Fine."

CJ reached over and covered her niece's cold hand with her own.

"I know you're scared."

"I'm not scared," Hogan answered defensively.

"Yes, you are. And it's okay. You're doing the right thing."

She looked up at CJ vulnerably.

"Then why does it freak me out so much?"

"Well," CJ sighed. "Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same."

1:45

"This is one of those times when I'm ashamed to be half Irish."

Charlie Young looked up and gazed across the room at Debbie Fiderer and squinted his eyes in confusion at her ambiguous, random statement.

"What?"

"I said, this is one of those times when I'm ashamed to be half Irish."

"When else have you been ashamed to be half Irish?" Charlie questioned dryly.

"Well, the day Lucky Charms first hit the shelves, for one."

Charlie turned back to his computer.

"Okay."

When Josh Lyman appeared in the outer office, his artificial high spirits were completely transparent.

"Did somebody say Lucky Charms?"

Debbie frowned.

"I bet you're the kind that only eats the marshmallows."

"That obvious, huh?" Josh responded.

"He's free, you can go on in."

"Thank you."

Josh continued on into the Oval Office and closed the door behind him. The President sat behind his desk looking over an Intelligence file that had just been sent over.

"Excuse me, Mr. President."

Jed glanced up over his glasses before taking them off and putting down the file.

"What's up?"

"Sir, what I'm about to ask you may seem a little bizarre and really, it is, being that the idea itself came from a fiction novel."

"I don't think I like the sound of this, Josh."

"Just…please hear me out, sir."

"Go ahead."

"To put it simply, sir, I would like to be included in the investigation of Stanley Keyworth's murder."

"Included how?"

"Involved. With your permission, I can work with the investigators assigned to the case and…"

"What are the benefits of this?"

"Well, I think that it's important, since Stanley worked with both of us, that we take control of the situation. By having someone represent the White House in the investigation, it shows we are on top of it. Also, sir, I don't know if this has been addressed previously, but is anyone considering that Stanley's murder may somehow be connected to the IRA threat?"

"No," Jed answered, after a moment. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'm agreeing to this, under one condition."

"Yes, sir," Josh said.

"I don't want you doing this alone. Pick two people to work with you. I don't care who, but consider both the political and personal ramification when you make your choices. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Come to me when you've made your decision."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

As Josh exited into the outer office, Leo entered the Oval from the connecting door to his own office.

"What was that about?"

Jed sat down on the couch and began rubbing his temples methodically.

"Josh wants to get involved in Stanley's murder investigation."

"And?" Leo asked, sitting down across from him.

"I don't see why not."

"What's going on with Colleen McGann?"

"They're closing in on her."

"That's not good enough, Leo."

Leo nodded and observed the President's apparent exhaustion.

"Sir, maybe you should think about getting some rest."

"Or maybe I should think about protecting my country from Irish terrorists."

"At this point, there isn't much you can do and I think you know that. Why don't you go on up to the Residence and get a couple hours of sleep? If anything happens, anything at all, I won't hesitate to call you."

"Anything and everything, Leo," Jed said firmly.

"Yes, sir."

Slowly, he lifted himself up off the couch and strolled toward the door to the portico.

"Leo."

"Anything and everything."

"Understood, Mr. President."

After the President had left the office, Leo headed back into his own where he found Dr. Nancy McNally waiting for him.

"Nancy."

"Leo, we have a problem."

"That's surprising," Leo replied. "What happened?"

"We found the Irish Ambassador."

"Yeah. What's the problem?"

"We don't know how, but Sheridan managed to board a plane at Dulles."

"But we got him before it took off, right?"

"No," Nancy replied. "The aircraft is currently in flight."

"Where's it headed?"

"It's headed to Broadford Airport on the Isle of Skye in Scotland. From there, he no doubt plans to travel to Ireland."

Leo sighed and fell back into the chair behind his desk.

"Leo, this only confirms suspicions developed throughout the evening that Sheridan is involved. If Sheridan's involved, there's no telling who else has defected. We're gonna need to shut down the Irish Embassy and interrogate all employees."

"You got any good news for me, Nancy?"

"Not a damn thing."

1:59:57 1:59:58 1:59:59 2:00:00


	8. Chapter 8

Hour Eight

The following takes place between 2:00am and 3:00am on January 7th, 2002, in Washington, DC unless otherwise noted.

Caffeine is much more convenient than sleep, the President thought. Less time-consuming. But Leo wanted him at his fighting weight tomorrow and that wasn't going to happen without at least two hours of sleep under his belt.

He walked into his bedroom after sending a cordial nod to the agents and closed the door behind him. On his way to the bathroom, he stopped briefly in front of the bed to catch a quick glimpse of his immobile wife before continuing on his way. Once he had vanished into the bathroom, Abbey opened her eyes and sighed.

2:03

Nancy stood stationary by the door with her arms folded across her chest as Leo paced the length of his office pensively.

"How do you want to handle this?" She asked.

"Well, we don't exactly have a plethora of choices, do we, Nancy?"

"Not exactly."

"All right. Get Broadford Airport security onboard, and the local police department. I want Sheridan apprehended the moment his feet hit the pavement."

"It might be a challenge getting Broadford's cooperation," Nancy pointed out.

"The IRA is no friend to Scotland. Once they know the details of the situation at hand, they'll cooperate. Trust me."

"Are you gonna get the President in on this?"

Leo shook his head.

"I just got the President up to the Residence five minutes ago. If I get him back for something as trivial as this, he'll never get back up there."

"Something as trivial as this?"

"There's nothing he can do about this, Nancy, so yes, it's trivial."

"He's gonna have your ass on a plate when he finds out you didn't get him," Nancy said.

"Honestly, Nancy, if he doesn't get a few minutes alone with the First Lady, he'll have all our asses on a plate just for doing our jobs."

"What's going on with the First Lady?"

"It's just a thing, don't worry about it."

"You're worried about it, and clearly he's worried about it."

"It's nothing," Leo insisted.

"Leo, is this something that's gonna…"

Leo looked at her askance.

"Gonna what, Nancy?"

She hesitated before letting out a sigh and continuing.

"Does he have it together?"

"He has it together," Leo replied firmly.

"We need him together, Leo, I don't have to tell you that."

"That's why I sent him upstairs. He gets a chance to talk with Abbey, gets a little sleep, comes back raring to go."

"I hope you're right," Nancy said uncertainly.

"I'm right."

2:07

"The doctor will be with you in a moment."

CJ smiled politely at the exiting nurse while Hogan maintained her nervous frown. The high school senior sat on the plastic-covered bed in her hospital gown and CJ stood directly beside her.

"I've never been to the emergency room during the graveyard shift," CJ commented.

Hogan glared at her, one eyebrow raised.

"Aunt CJ, calling it the graveyard shift doesn't exactly boost my morale."

"Sorry."

"I feel really awkward about being here," Hogan admitted.

"You feel awkward?"

"Yeah. I mean, what if there's a four car pile-up on Louisiana Avenue and twenty people are brought here in critical condition and I'm taking up a bed?"

"In my life, I don't think I've ever heard of a four car pile-up on Louisiana Avenue, Hogan."

"You know what I mean."

"That's what scares me," CJ quipped. "Why are you so hung up on this?"

"I don't know. I just…I don't know."

"I think you do know."

"I don't like doctors," Hogan said quickly.

"You like the First Lady."

"Yeah, that's because she's cool and whatever. These guys…not so much."

"These guys, as you so quaintly put it, are highly trained professionals and while they may not be as cool as the First Lady, they know what they're doing," CJ explained.

"Remember when Dad made me come to work with you for Take Your Daughter to Work Day in eighth grade and I fell down the stairs to the Mess and she took care of me?"

"She put Neosporin on your knee and covered it with a band-aid, Hogan."

"Yeah, but she's the First Lady. How many people can say the First Lady rushed out of her meeting with President Dossier's wife to put a band-aid on their knee?"

"Not many."

"Can we get Mrs. Bartlet to do this instead?"

"I think the AMA would frown upon it, being that she, you know, forfeited her license."

"Wouldn't be the first time she went against the AMA," Hogan retorted.

"Okay, that's enough of that. The doctor will be here any second."

2:17

His bare feet carried him slowly out of the bathroom after he had changed into his pajamas and completed his routine tasks for the evening. Or morning, as the case seemed to be. When he walked over to the bed, it occurred to him that he wasn't tired. He was listless, tense, and preoccupied, but not tired. He sat down on the edge of the bed with his back to his wife, who was tucked comfortably under the covers. He sat in that motionless position for a few enduring moments while his heart tried to scare away the images his mind forced him to acknowledge. So engaged was he in his mission to exterminate all of the varied, unpleasant images that he didn't notice when Abbey, who hadn't been asleep as he had assumed, began to stir beneath the sheets. Only when she placed her warm hand flat against his back did he finally notice her.

"What is it?" She asked, softly.

He wanted to turn around and look at her, but he couldn't.

"I can't focus," he mumbled in return.

"What?"

Louder this time.

"I can't focus."

He heard her breath catch in her throat and instinctively read her thoughts.

"It's not…" She hesitated.

"No. Leo and I are in my office trying to save the world and all I can think about is…"

"What?"

"All I can think about is my life without you."

Although he could not see her, he could visualize her expression in his mind. Her mouth was slightly open, speechless, and her eyes were vacant with a mixture of concern, confusion, and anxiety.

"There isn't anything, Abbey. It's…it's a sort of empty monotony. Over and over, I see a few seconds of me alone and then it all goes black." A single tear slid down his cheek, followed by more as he struggled to lend voice to thought. "I can't do it. I can't do both. I can't…"

The tears began to flow at a copious rate, causing her to momentarily break out of the daze he had created in her. She threw off the covers and crawled onto her knees, wrapping her arms around him from behind. She pressed her forehead into his shoulder and continued to hold him as he cried. Her own mind was racing, but she would tend to those thoughts later.

"Why tonight?" He sobbed. "Why all at once?"

She hadn't seen him like this in ages. She had seen him cry more often than anyone else, but never to the point of childlike blubbering. Thank God the Joint Chiefs weren't around to see this.

"God is testing me, Abbey."

"Honey, need I remind you, you're the President of the United States. God is testing you every day."

"And every day I handle it," Jed said. "Every day, I catch whatever he throws at me. But now he's putting you into play and I'm missing every pitch."

"Well." She sighed. "You've got nine innings to get it right."

He did not turn around, and she did not attempt to make eye contact. She kept her position directly behind him and rubbed his back lightly as they nursed the fleeting silence between them.

2:25

"Why would you choose them over me?" Donna asked, pouting. "It was my idea!"

Josh turned away from his computer to give her his coveted attention.

"Are you a lawyer?"

"I…watch Law and Order."

"Are you experienced in investigative work?" He asked.

"I watch Law and Order."

"Do you know how to handle hardened criminals?"

"Well, I do watch Law and Order."

"Okay, let me ask you this. Do you have a college degree?"

"No, but I have seen Animal House a few times."

"Yeah, I can see how you would find similarities there."

"Come on, Josh!" Donna whined.

"Can you think of anyone better than my choices?"

"Yeah, Sam Waterston and Jerry Orbach!"

"Okay, tell you what," Josh replied. "If you can get either of them on the phone at two in the morning, I'm game. Otherwise, get me Sam and Amy."

2:30

"It was never supposed to be you, Abbey. I was supposed to go first."

Abbey was flabbergasted. Where on earth was all of this coming from? He had been so confident earlier, assuring her that it was only a cyst. Now he was worse than Zoey when her junior prom date got sick at the last minute. Maybe it was the result of all the stress he was under tonight. He was overwhelmed and it had put him into a childlike state.

"You're the reason I became President. If it hadn't been for you, I'd be Pope right now. I can't go on doing what I'm doing if you're…"

"Jed, I'm not going anywhere just yet, so calm down. The odds are…"

"The odds are not in our favor, Abbey," Jed responded. "In fact, the odds are really bringing me down."

Abbey opened her mouth to speak, but he was faster.

"Do you have any idea how many women are diagnosed with breast cancer each year? Hundreds of thousands!"

"Yeah, but…"

"And your family history pretty much speaks for itself, don't you think?"

"Well, I…"

If he had bothered to turn around, he would have seen the fear that dominated her features and the abundance of tears that had welled up in her eyes.

"Your mother died of ovarian cancer, your aunt died of breast cancer, your cousin died of breast cancer, your niece was diagnosed less than a year ago, and both of your sisters had breast cancer."

"And survived," Abbey pointed out.

"Yeah, and they both fell victim to massive depression following their mastectomies!"

"All right, that's enough!"

Suddenly, she crawled past him off the bed until she stood square on her feet before him. Looking at her for the first time in over fifteen minutes, he finally saw the anguish that was plain on her face.

"Okay? Enough! I know you're scared. But what about me? For God's sake, you're sitting there granting me a death sentence! For the last I don't know how many minutes, I've listened to you go through every reason why I should die! How is that supposed to make me feel? Is this your way of…I don't know, making me feel better? Easing my fears? Because you're doing a great job, let me tell you. In just a few short hours, a world-renowned oncologist is going to present me with a verdict that will literally seal my fate. And you are not a part of that jury, Jed. This is one thing that is way beyond the realm of your jurisdiction so don't start writing my eulogy yet!"

Silently, he lifted himself off the bed and approached her. She was breathing heavily still, stricken by the combination of her emotional harangue and the suppression of her tears. He wrapped his arms around her and she aborted all attempts to contain the tears. He stroked her hair gently, apologizing over and over in a faint whisper, as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"You were supposed to say…women survive breast cancer every day," Abbey mumbled as she cried. "It's probably just benign, Abbey. Don't worry, Abbey, we'll get you the best care money can buy."

He kissed her forehead.

"I know, baby. I'm so sorry."

After a moment, she pulled back slightly to look up at him.

"Jed, whatever happens tomorrow…I need to know that you're going to be my cheerleader, not the death-obsessed pessimist I saw tonight. Promise me that."

He held her tightly against his chest and locked his arms around her.

"I promise," he whispered. "I promise."

2:41

Toby Ziegler had been ruminating in the darkness of his quiet office for well over an hour. Although there was nothing specific for him to do, he refused to leave.

"Toby."

Ginger popped her head into his office and was momentarily disoriented by the overwhelming darkness.

"You all right in here, Lestat?"

"What do you need?" Toby responded.

"I have Andy on line one."

"Thank you."

Ginger left the office as Toby reached for the phone.

"You're calling me from Maryland, right?"

"You predicted that one pretty well, Ziegler," Andy said. "I just heard about the evacuation."

"Aren't you glad you listened to me?"

"What's going on, Toby?"

"I can't tell you."

"Bull. What's going on, Toby?"

He sighed reluctantly.

"The IRA."

"Sinn Fein?"

"Yeah."

"What about them?" Andy questioned.

"They've threatened to destroy at least one building the D.C. area."

"You're kidding me."

"Is that something I do, Andy?"

"What the hell does the Irish Republican Army have against the United States?"

"The jury's still out on that one."

"So what's it like there?"

"It's…chaotic, what do you think it's like?"

"What are you doing to prevent it?" She asked.

"Everything we can."

2:46

"Leo?"

Josh stepped into the Chief of Staff's office and closed the door behind him. Noticing that he was on the phone, Josh sat down on the couch near his desk until he was through. About thirty seconds later, Leo hung up the phone.

"What was that?" Josh questioned.

"Lord Marbury's plane just landed. He'll be here in about forty-five minutes."

Josh raised a curious eyebrow.

"Is he stopping for a little sight-seeing first?"

"He's in Baltimore."

"Is there…a reason for that?"

"It's just a precautionary move. We don't know where McGann's people are set up in Washington, if any. We're not taking any chances."

"Okay."

"What's up?" Leo asked.

"I've made my choices."

"For your partners in crime?"

"Technically rather the opposite, but yes," Josh replied.

"Okay, who'd you get?"

"Sam and Amy."

"Sam and Amy?"

"Yeah. Is that gonna be a problem?"

"I'm just surprised you got them to agree to that."

"Well, to be fair, I haven't yet, but I will."

"You haven't yet, but you will," Leo repeated skeptically.

"Piece of cake."

Leo's inevitable cynical response was thwarted by the sudden arrival of both Nancy McNally and Ryan Chappelle. Leo nodded to Josh, who immediately vacated his seat and rushed out of the office.

"Well?"

"We've got her," Nancy announced.

"McGann?"

"Yes."

"Oh, thank God. Any complications?"

"Well, she did put up a bit of a fight, and one of my field agents may have a broken hand, but other than that, no harm done," Chappelle replied.

"Great work. Pass it on to your agents."

"I will, sir."

"Leo," Nancy said, hesitantly. "There's one more thing."

Leo frowned.

"What now?"

"When they found her, McGann wasn't working alone."

"Well, that's not a huge surprise, is it?"

"The information on its own isn't a huge surprise, no, but…" Chappelle trailed off.

"The real surprise," Nancy added. "Is who she was working with."

2:59:57 2:59:58 2:59:59 3:00:00

TBC. 


	9. Chapter 9

Hour Nine

The following takes place between 3:00am and 4:00am on January 7th, 2002, in Washington, DC unless otherwise noted.

"Am I gonna need to sit down for this, Nancy?"

"Do you normally like to be seated when you learn that a former senior advisor is engaging in terrorist activity?"

Without a word, Leo sat down in his chair and looked up at Nancy and Chappelle for answers.

"Okay."

Nancy and Chappelle exchanged wary glances.

"You want to…" Chappelle trailed off.

Nancy nodded.

"There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just gonna rip the band-aid right off. One of Colleen McGann's co-conspirators is none other than one Madeleine L. Hampton."

Leo frowned.

"Mandy?"

"Mandy," Nancy confirmed.

He sighed and leaned back against the couch, rubbing his throbbing forehead.

"Mr. McGarry, can you think of any reason why Mandy Hampton would be involved in such treason?" Chappelle questioned.

Leo shrugged.

"I guess Lennox Chase wouldn't give her her job back after we let her go."

Ryan Chappelle walked across the room and sat beside Leo on the couch.

"Is it possible that she harbors ill will towards this Administration?"

"I never really saw Mandy as the type, but I suppose it's possible."

"How long ago did she vacate her position as Media Director?"

"Shortly after Roslyn," Leo replied.

"On what grounds?"

"Several reasons. More often than not, she was less than compatible with the rest of the senior staff. That, and she wrote a memo outlining our weaknesses so that really put a damper on things."

"Would you say she left on less than amicable terms?" Chappelle asked.

"She didn't seem too phased by it. She's always been resilient, but I don't imagine being let go from a presidential administration looks good on a resumé, so there's that."

"I'm assuming she had a thorough background check before coming to work at the White House."

"Of course."

"So this new hobby of hers has to be a relatively new endeavor."

Leo nodded. Chappelle sighed and stood up.

"Okay, we've taken both of them into custody and they're being brought into CTU for questioning."

"Okay. You're gonna head down there?"

"I'll be in charge of interrogation. Being that these two are our only leads, they're priority."

"I appreciate all the work you and your team have been doing here tonight, Ryan."

Chappelle smiled, probably for the first time in nine hours.

"Well, sir, they don't call us the Counter Terrorism Unit for nothing."

3:11

She watched helplessly as the stream of light became smaller and smaller, until finally she heard the door slam shut and darkness dominated every corner of the little storeroom. She tried to scream, but the sound was muffled by the rag covering her mouth. Although she could feel herself moving, nothing was visible to her. It was as if she was suspended in mid-air, with nothing below her and nothing above her. She knew the pain in her legs wasn't a good sign, but she couldn't see them clear enough to assess the damage. After a few moments of thrashing and struggling, she resigned all hope and leaned back against a large, unidentified object and waited to be rescued.

As she contemplated her situation, she decided right then and there that she was going to make it through this. After all, why would anyone want to kill the Surgeon General of the United States?

3:19

With the first ring of his cell phone, Sam Seaborn leaped out of bed. The ringing continued as he searched frantically beneath the pile of clothes of the floor until finally he came across it. He leaned against the bed and flipped the cell phone open, pressing it to his ear.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, buddy, it's Josh."

"It's like one in the morning, Josh," Sam murmured without bothering to look up at the digital clock resting on his nightstand.

"Actually, it's three, but that's not important. Can you hang on a second? I want to conference Amy in."

"Uh…okay."

Sam waited patiently for the silence at the other end of the line to disappear and, when it finally did, he had almost dozed off to sleep.

"Sam? You still there?"

His eyes shot open and he shook his head to chase away the remnants of his lassitude.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Amy?"

After a yawn, Amy replied, "I'm here."

"Listen, I'm sorry to wake you both up, I just wanted you to be prepared."

"For what, a nuclear meltdown?" Amy said.

"A lot has happened in the last few hours and while I can't clue you in on all of it just yet, there's one thing I need your help with."

"Just spit it out, Josh, it's one in the morning."

"Again, it's actually three, but…anyway. Earlier this evening, Dr. Stanley Keyworth was murdered in his apartment."

"What!"

"You're kidding."

"No." Josh shook his head, knowing full well that neither of them could see him do so. "The President has put me in charge of the investigation but he insists I take two people with me."

"Oh, no. Uh-uh," Sam said, immediately.

"Count me out," Amy agreed.

"Come on," Josh implored them.

"Josh, we have no investigatory experience whatsoever. Why you would choose us…"

"You're both lawyers. Besides, I trust you. There aren't a whole lot of people I trust out there. Come on, do it for Columbo. Do it for Rockford. Do it for Magnum!"

Sam and Amy both groaned, and Josh knew he had won.

"Sam, you bring the flashlight. Amy, you get the binoculars. Be ready at 7am."

Before they could argue, Josh had conveniently hung up the phone. Sam and Amy both flipped their phones shut and sighed. Slowly, Sam crawled back into bed and under the covers. After a moment, he turned his head to look at the woman lying next to him.

"Think he had any idea?" He questioned.

"Not a clue," Amy replied.

3:27

It hadn't taken long for the President to fall asleep following his passionate conversation with his wife. She had done her best to ease his fears and while her efforts didn't erase them completely, it was enough to afford him a little sleep. His fears, however, only amplified hers, leading to a severe, though hopefully transient, case of insomnia. Wrapped tightly in his strong arms as he slept peacefully, her eyes darted aimlessly around the room, drawn to the dancing shadows on the wall created by the curtains. As soothing as his regular breathing pattern was, it seemed that sleep was entirely unattainable for her. Not that that was especially surprising, given the circumstances. She suppressed her desire to get out of bed and roam the Residence knowing that any movement on her part would likely rouse her husband from his coveted, much-needed slumber and she would have none of that. Even in her own time of need, he came first.

3:38

"Honestly, Gerald, coffee at this ungodly hour?"

Startled, Leo glanced up to find the ever-charming Lord John Marbury standing in the doorway of his office. He didn't know whether to groan or breathe a sigh of relief at his arrival.

"Gotta find some way to stay awake, John."

"Certainly. Which is precisely why I've taken the liberty of sending your delightful assistant to retrieve us some Earl Grey."

"And a shot of whiskey?"

Lord John shook his head and crossed the threshold into the office.

"I fear that would be wholly inappropriate on this night of nights, Gerald, don't you agree?"

Leo nodded and relocated from his desk to the couch, gesturing for Lord John to join him.

"I'm afraid the outcome of this dreadful situation is looking rather grim."

"I take it you've been briefed on all the details?" Leo assumed.

"Yes, of course."

"What's your opinion?"

"My esteemed estimation is this. Putting aside the fact that I personally provided you with ample forewarning of this very situation nearly a year ago, I imagine the IRA chose to target the United States on the sole grounds that it was completely unexpected. Naturally, the U.S. would be unprepared for an attack of this temperament, orchestrated by those you have always considered allies. At the same time, it is duly startling to consider that an attack hasn't already been made, only threatened. It is highly uncharacteristic of this particular organization to wait so long after making what is not so much a threat as a declaration of their intentions. Unless I have been mistakenly informed, they made no requests from you, is that correct?"

"That's right," Leo replied with a nod.

"Then I cannot, for the life of me, deduce, plausibly, why they would wait so long before executing their grand scheme. This leads me to only one conclusion."

"What's that?"

"The IRA's threat upon this country was made only to incite fear within your government and, in doing so, prove to England that their willingness to wreak havoc extends far beyond Her Majesty's kingdom."

"Essentially?"

"Essentially, it is fair to assume that the IRA is saying to England, in layman's terms, 'we're prepared to destroy every democratic form of government on earth until you agree to our demands.'"

"The IRA is that powerful?" Leo questioned.

"No, certainly not," Lord John replied. "But they think they are and that in itself is alarming, wouldn't you say?"

Leo nodded.

"Yeah. So you believe they're all talk?"

"It's possible, yes. But that is not to say that you should discontinue your efforts to stop them. You see, the IRA is full of surprises, contrary to popular belief. They thrive on that very trait. Whether or not they are, as you say, full of shit is completely unknown and that, my friend, is what keeps them going. Understand?"

"Oh, I understand, but that doesn't mean I have any inkling as to what comes next."

"Nor do I, which is precisely their goal. Your duty now is to conceal any semblance of fear in your administration because once they see that they've succeeded in their objective, then the situation escalates far beyond your wildest dreams."

3:49

"It's freezing out here," Hogan commented as she folded her arms actress her chest in an attempt to keep out the cold.

"Well, it is January," CJ replied.

They strolled through Lafayette Park slowly, neither of them incredibly keen on returning to the hustle and bustle of the White House.

"You have to get back to work soon, don't you?"

"There's a lot going on right now, Hogan. If it was any other day…"

"I understand."

"Do you?"

"Aunt CJ, you serve at the pleasure of the President. I get it," Hogan said.

"That doesn't mean I'm not here for you."

"Seriously, I get it."

CJ stopped as they approached the gates to the White House.

"We'll have your dad come get you in the morning. Are you okay hanging out with Carol for now?"

"I'll be fine."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

3:57

After over half an hour of silent debating, Abbey decided to take the risk. Whether or not it woke her husband up, she needed to escape. She slowly disentangled herself from his grasp, pausing until his stirring ceased. When it did, she quietly crawled out of bed, grateful when his slumber remained intact. After donning a silk bathrobe and one passing glance at her husband, she tiptoed out of the bedroom they shared. She nodded to the agents in acknowledgement as she passed by and strolled through the Residence until she reached the Truman Balcony. She didn't even flinch when the cold air hit her. She welcomed the numb feeling that spread all over her body when it did. She always felt at peace when she was out on the balcony, like nothing could touch her.

That serenity, however, was disturbed forever when the Washington Monument burst into flames before her very eyes.

3:59:57 3:59:58 3:59:59 4:00:00


	10. Chapter 10

Hour Ten

The following takes place between 4:00am and 5:00am on January 7th, 2002, in Washington, DC unless otherwise noted.

He had been in pursuit of her when he heard the explosion. She hadn't been as stealthy as she hoped in her exit and thus, he had crawled out of bed with the intention of following her. He stepped out onto the balcony where she stood motionless, unable to look away from the flames. He stood beside her, staring in awe at the sight before them, until several agents burst through the doors.

"Mr. President, the Secret Service is invoking Section 23. The Service has the authority to take any precautions necessary to ensure your safety. Any and all protests made on your behalf will be ignored."

Before they had any grasp on the situation, the agents were talking at them a mile a minute and within seconds, they were back inside their bedroom.

4:02

Numerous agents filtered through the West Wing giving instructions to the employees and directing them to the safe locations nearest to them for the Crash. CJ, Hogan, Carol, and Toby found themselves contained in CJ's relatively small office, Josh, Will, and Donna were confined in his, and Leo, Margaret, and Lord John in the Chief of Staff's office.

4:08

Lord John Marbury sat on the couch calmly sipping his Earl Grey as Leo paced the length and breadth of his office anxiously. Lord John patted the cushion beside him and beckoned for Margaret to sit beside him and join him in a cup of tea. Despite her worry for his boss' frenetic state, Margaret was pleased that the British Ambassador had remembered her name and thus was unable to refuse.

"Come now, Gerald, have a seat. A cup of tea will do you good."

"You know, you're right, John. Except for the fact that one of the most beloved symbols of my country has just been blown to pieces, you're right."

"Pacing like a dotty little expectant father is hardly going to change that. Isn't that right, Margot?"

"Margaret, sir."

"Oh, yes, you're absolutely right. Terribly sorry. I had it right just a second ago, didn't I?"

"Yes, sir," Margaret replied.

"Well, that is a miracle in itself."

Leo groaned in frustration at his colleague's nonchalance, sat down at his desk, and reached for the phone. Margaret and Lord John watched him intently, waiting for his next move.

"Ryan, Leo McGarry. Yeah. What the hell is going on over there! Well, the Washington Monument just blew up, you don't think that's cause to…yeah. Okay. Time's up, Ryan. I want you to get in there and interrogate the hell out of them! Understood? Thank you."

Leo slammed the phone down onto the receiver and looked up at the two pairs of eyes that were locked upon him.

"You should be grateful this happened when it did," Lord John pointed out.

Leo glared at him angrily.

"Why is that?"

"Well, it's simply all too fortunate that no one goes sightseeing at four in the morning. And don't think for a moment that the IRA doesn't know that."

"What are you saying, John?"

"I'm saying that there's no body count. That's not a mistake."

4:18

Abbey sat on the couch and hugged her knees to her chest as she watched her husband pace around their bedroom, just as Leo had done in his own office. Her eyes followed him back and forth, back and forth, until she became dizzy. She knew he was kicking himself for succumbing to his fatigue and leaving the West Wing. Now he was stuck in the Residence, far from where he needed to be.

"Honey, come sit down. You're gonna making things any easier on yourself."

"I should be down there, Abbey."

"You would be doing the same thing in the office as you're doing right now and you know it."

He reluctantly collapsed on the couch beside her and sighed. She draped an arm around his shoulders and rested her head against him.

"I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to react," Jed admitted. "I don't know if I'm supposed to be scared or if I'm supposed to be strong and unaffected."

"How do you feel?"

"I'm pissed as hell, Abbey."

"That's a start."

"I want to know why the Irish Ambassador has gone AWOL, I want to know why my goddamn former media director has suddenly become a terrorist, I want to know why Stanley Keyworth is dead, and I'm still waiting to find out why the hell we're being targeted by the IRA in the first place!"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"These are things I should have known hours ago."

"Things will fall into place. In the meantime, we do the best we can because it's all we know how to do."

4:32

Ryan Chappelle slammed the door behind him as he entered the main interrogation room at CTU Headquarters. His eyes locked briefly with those of Colleen McGann when he dropped his files and a large notepad on the table and sat down across from her. She was bound to the chair she sat in and had, by this time, given up any hope of breaking free. Ryan adjusted the microphone clipped onto his jacket and checked to make sure hers was securely fastened, then glanced up to make sure the camera was in place.

"I want a lawyer," Colleen demanded.

"You're a terrorist. You don't get a lawyer."

"An alleged terrorist."

Ryan rolled his eyes.

"And anyway, this isn't a police station. The same rights do not apply. There's a camera in the corner and see that mirror behind you?"

"It's a two-way mirror."

"That's right. There are four or five people set up back there watching your every move, so don't even think about trying anything."

"You've got me shackled to a chair, Mr. Chappelle, what the hell am I gonna do?"

"You'd be surprised at what I've seen over the years, Ms. McGann. Shall we begin?"

Colleen shrugged.

"Doesn't look like there's any way out of it for me, so, by all means."

"You're aware that your husband gave you up."

She merely glared at him in response.

"You fled to Baltimore shortly after his confession, you must have known."

"Maybe I did."

"Why Baltimore?"

"I enjoy the scenery."

Ryan pushed his chair back suddenly and stood up.

"All right. There are two ways this can go. You can give me straight, direct answers to my questions or I can bring in a guy named Richards and trust me, you won't like what's in his bag of tricks."

"What is he, Mary Poppins?" Colleen responded with a scowl.

"What's it gonna be? Are you gonna answer my questions or do I need to ask Richards to bring in his army of needles?"

"I was meeting someone."

"Who?"

"Mandy Hampton."

"For what purpose?" Ryan questioned.

"For dinner and a movie."

"All it takes is one phone call to get Richards down here."

"Ellie Bartlet," Colleen mumbled.

"Ellie Bartlet? What about Ellie Bartlet?"

"That's where we were headed, all right!"

"What did you intend to do when you found her?"

"I don't know, we hadn't fully decided..."

"Damnit, Colleen, you don't expect me believe that you were gonna go in there without a plan!"

"We thought…we thought that kidnapping her would be a reasonable distraction for the President."

"You were going to take Ellie Bartlet hostage."

"Yes."

"When I go into the next room and ask Ms. Hampton the same question, is that the answer she's gonna give me?"

"It's the truth."

4:47

"Chappelle's interrogating McGann now?"

Sitting on his bed, Jed held the phone to his ear as he spoke to his Chief of Staff. He fleetingly glanced over at Abbey, who was glued to the news stations reporting on the explosion.

"Yes, sir," Leo replied.

"I want him to give them a polygraph. I know Crawford insists the White House isn't a target, but Crawford isn't as involved as McGann is. And I don't know how deep into this Mandy has gotten herself, but I suspect she knows more than Crawford does. The Service is gonna pull that Section 23 crap and make us get up into Air Force One if this continues."

"Maybe that's something you should start seriously considering, Mr. President."

"No."

"Sir."

"No way, Leo."

"It's your life versus your pride. You have to pick your battles, sir, and this shouldn't be one of them."

Jed nodded pensively in rumination.

"You know, Abbey was out on the Truman Balcony when it happened."

"I heard that. How's she doing?"

"She's as good as can be expected right now. A little shell-shocked, I think."

"Then it's a good thing you're up there with her. There's nothing we can do until Chappelle finishes with Mandy and McGann."

"Do you feel a little strange referring to a terrorist as 'Mandy'?" Jed asked.

"I try not to think about it."

"Does everyone else know?"

"About Mandy?" Leo questioned.

"Yeah."

"No. I haven't told them."

"You have to tell them, Leo."

"I know. I'm just not sure how."

4:54

When Ryan Chappelle first caught a glimpse of Mandy Hampton bound to her chair in the interrogation room, he could think of nothing else besides how out of place she appeared. This wasn't a terrorist. She looked like some lost little girl who start running with the wrong crowd. He shook away these thoughts in order to focus on, as Leo McGarry had requesting, interrogating the hell out of her.

He sat down across from her as went through the general procedure with her. She nodded her head once or twice, glancing warily at the cameras stationed in several corners of the room.

"Ms. Hampton, you spent nearly a year working as Media Director for the President of the United States and a year as a senior official on his campaign staff. You are now under arrest for engaging in terrorist activity with a well-known terrorist organization that has targeted the U.S. for unknown reasons and which, fifty-six minutes ago, blew up the Washington Monument. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Not much," Mandy replied with a shrug.

"Okay. Fine. What were you doing in Baltimore?"

"Meeting with Colleen McGann, as you no doubt are already aware."

"What was your intent?"

"Oh, like you don't already know what our intent was."

"Ms. Hampton, as I told Ms. McGann, you make this easy or you can make this hard. Just be aware that the latter comes with consequences you are likely to regret."

"You gonna bring in some guy with ten different kinds of needles whose gonna inject me with sodium pentothal so I'll spill my guts?"

"You're very familiar with our procedures here, Ms. Hampton."

"I'm not exactly a little doe lost in the woods, Mr. Chappelle. I know how it works around here."

"Then you know what'll be like when Richards comes in here and sticks you with a bunch of needles."

"I imagine that'll be a tad unpleasant, but I've seen worse."

"Are you or are you not going to tell me, voluntarily, what you were doing in Baltimore this evening?"

"I'm thinking not," Mandy replied. "But I do have another piece of information you may find useful."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?" Chappelle questioned skeptically.

"A question, actually."

"I'm all ears."

"Have you checked up on the whereabouts of your Surgeon General lately?"

The question itself, combined with the glimmer of evil shining in her eyes, sent Ryan Chappelle running out of the room at a speed even faster than Mandy had anticipated.

4:59:57 4:59:58 4:59:59 5:00:00


	11. Chapter 11

Hour Eleven

The following takes place between 5:00am and 6:00am on January 7th, 2002, in Washington, DC unless otherwise noted.

Chappelle bolted through the main offices at CTU to the desk of one of his most devoted employees, Chloe O'Brien. The moment he reached her desk, her phone rang. She held up her index finger to Chappelle and picked up the phone.

"CTU O'Brien. Yes. Okay."

"Chloe!" Chappelle shouted.

"Hang on," Chloe said to the voice on the other line, placing her hand over the mouthpiece. "What's going on?"

"I need you to dispatch one of our field units to the residence of the Surgeon General."

"The…Surgeon General?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Chloe, just do it!"

Chloe rolled her eyes.

"Okay, okay." She removed her hand from the mouthpiece. "I'm gonna have to call you back, apparently there's a national crisis at the Surgeon General's house."

Chloe hung up the phone and began dialing another number.

"Chloe, an hour ago, the Washington Monument was blown up by Irish terrorists. You don't think you could shelve your cynicism for just a few more hours?"

Chloe glared back at him. Chappelle knew he had won and walked away.

5:04

Zoey Bartlet crept into her sister's bedroom where both of her older siblings were sleeping. She crawled up onto the bed, rustling them both out of their respective slumbers.

"What's going on?" Liz murmured drowsily.

"Get up, the agents have to talk to us," Zoey stated.

Slowly, Liz and Ellie gathered the strength to get out of bed and following Zoey into the living room of Ellie's apartment. Gina Toscano sat in the overstuffed chair in between the two couches waiting for them.

"Sorry to wake you up," Gina said. "But I lost the coin toss."

Liz and Ellie both shrugged, too lethargic to respond.

"What's up?" Zoey asked her agent.

"First of all, on behalf of all your agents, we want to apologize for keeping you in the dark these past few hours, but we were under strict orders. Here's what's happening. The United States is under attack by the IRA, which is an Irish terrorist organization. Their main purpose is to seek and attain, through any means they deem necessary, independence from England."

"So why are they attacking us?" Liz questioned.

"That's still unclear. Anyway, about an hour ago, the IRA was behind an attack on the Washington Monument."

"What do you mean, attack?" Ellie asked.

"An explosion."

"The Washington Monument exploded while we were sleeping?" Zoey replied in disbelief.

Gina nodded solemnly.

"Yes."

"Were there any casualties?" Ellie asked.

"No injury count, no body count. Also, there isn't much I can tell you about this, but we've learned that you, Ellie, were, at one point, an intended target of this attack, the plan having been to take you hostage. Therefore, your protection has been upped. All three of you are crashed here in the apartment until further notice."

Both Zoey and Liz reached out to take their sister's hand as she digested the information she had just been given.

"Although there are many other details to the situation and more intelligence is being gathered on a regular basis, I've divulged all I've been instructed to at this time. I'll let you know when those orders have been lifted."

5:14

"This is utterly extraordinary."

Leo turned his position in front of the window in his office to look at the British Ambassador, who sat on his couch drinking tea as he had been doing for hours.

"What is?"

"This Earl Grey falls just short of the excellence the same flavor achieves in England."

"And that's extraordinary?" Leo responded flatly.

"Well, it has been my experience that, by and large, it falls exceedingly short of it."

Leo frowned.

"What exactly is your purpose here?"

"Numerous studies have shown that my solitary purpose on this earth is to further complicate your already exceptionally complex existence," John replied nonchalantly.

"That explains it."

He was considering actually joining Lord Marbury in a cup of that utterly extraordinary tea when the phone rang. Instinctively, Margaret jumped up to answer it, but Leo waved her away and sat down at his desk, picking up the phone himself.

"Yeah?"

"Mr. McGarry, this is Ryan Chappelle."

"Ryan. Any progress with the interrogation?"

"Very little, sir, except for one thing."

"What's that?" Leo asked.

"As of this moment, there is no conclusive evidence to suggest that Ms. Hampton's statement is of a truthful substance and not merely a ploy to distract from her interrogation, but…"

"What is it, Ryan?" 

"A comment made by Hampton herself prompted me to dispatch one of my field units to the residence of the Surgeon General."

Both Margaret and Lord Marbury sat up straight, leaning in, when they noticed the panicked expression on Leo's face.

"The Surgeon General?" He choked.

"Yes, sir. Hampton's comment was entirely too vague to merit speculation as to what exactly may have transpired as far as Dr. Griffith is concerned. I'm waiting to hear back from my agents in the field, which shouldn't be much longer."

"Okay," Leo whispered. "Call me the second you know something."

"Of course. Thank you, Mr. McGarry."

"Thank you, Ryan."

The moment Leo hung up the phone, Margaret and Lord Marbury began spewing out urgent question. But Leo didn't hear a single one.

5:21

After Hogan had fallen asleep on the couch in CJ's office, CJ and Toby decided to seize the opportunity and make plans for how to present the events of late to the public.

"Should we mention anything about the First Lady?" CJ asked.

"Have you talked to the First Lady?"

"Briefly."

"Does she want you to mention it?" Toby asked.

"She didn't say one way or the other, but there's a serious possibility that someone at the hospital may have leaked it. The press may already have it."

"We don't need the Mrs. Bartlet's name being dragged through the press while we're facing a national crisis of gargantuan proportions, so let's save it until after she gets the results."

"It could be a welcome distraction to the crisis of gargantuan…"

"The First Lady may have breast cancer? That's not a welcome distraction, that's an unwelcome distraction. We're saving it."

"Okay. What about said crisis?"

"You'll make a statement," Toby said.

"That's it?"

"We can't take questions."

"I think we should take questions," CJ responded.

"No questions. You're gonna tell the truth and you're gonna get out of there."

"The question is, how much truth are we gonna tell?" CJ questioned.

"All of it," Toby replied with hesitation.

"All of it?"

"We're not giving the American people three quarters of the truth or five eighths of the truth. We're gonna give them…"

"The whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

Toby shrugged.

"So help us, God."

5:35

Abbey walked out of the bathroom having changed into a navy blue skirt and crimson sweater and caught glimpse of her husband, clearly in distress, sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

"Jed?" She called out, sympathy lacing her tone, and slowly walked over to him.

He lifted his head to look at her as she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.

"How're you doing?"

He chose to deflect from himself, unwilling to drive himself further into his state of distress.

"I'm not the one waiting around to find out if I've got cancer or not. How are you doing?"

She sat down on the arm of the couch and sighed.

"We should have the results in the few hours. Probably around nine or ten."

"I want to be in the room," Jed stated.

"Okay."

"Promise me."

"I promise," Abbey replied effortlessly.

"Do you feel all right?"

"I feel fine, Jed. God, we really need to get you back to the Oval as soon as possible."

A knock on the door commandeered both of their interests and they looked up as Ron Butterfield entered their bedroom.

"Mr. President. Ma'am. The crash has been lifted. You're free to move about the building."

Without hesitation, Jed grabbed his jacket and, after giving Abbey a quick kiss on the cheek, swept out of the room, leaving her on her own.

5:43

Following the announcement that was crash was finally over, Josh couldn't wait to leave his office, which, he decided after being trapped in it for nearly two hours, was entirely too small. As he was following Donna out of the office, however, his phone began to ring. Groaning, he returned to his desk and picked it up.

"This is Josh Lyman."

"Josh, it's Sam."

"And Amy!" A female voice announced.

"Yeah, what'd you guys do, conference me in?" Josh asked.

"Uh…yeah," Sam answered, nervously. "That's what we did."

"Teamwork. You guys already have the buddy cop thing going on. I like that. What's up?"

"Hmm, what's up," Sam said, musingly. "What's up. Amy, would you please tell Josh what's up, in case he hasn't heard?"

"The Washington Monument just exploded, you jackass, what the hell is going on!" Amy exclaimed.

"I can't talk about that," Josh said tersely. "And stop hanging out with the First Lady."

"Josh, it's not like an air base exploded in Qumar. A national landmark that happens to be hardly two miles away from my apartment just blew up," Sam said. "Don't treat us like we're other people."

"If you won't tell us what's going on, all it takes is one phone call to CJ or Toby," Amy added.

"The IRA, all right! It's the IRA."

"What's the IRA?" Sam and Amy both questioned simultaneously.

"The IRA is behind the attack."

"The…Irish Republican Army?" Sam questioned with astonishment.

"Yeah. What else can I do for you?"

"What the hell!" Amy cried.

"Yeah, it's a long story. We'll talk about it when we meet me in the lobby in…an hour and a half."

"Josh, does Stanley's murder have any connection with this IRA thing?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. But we're gonna find out in an hour and a half."

5:49

Left alone with nothing but her thoughts and the possibility of breast cancer, Abbey decided to put her incessant pacing to good use and vacated her bedroom. She spent a few minutes idly walking around the Residence, stopping intermittently to glance inside rooms she hadn't thought about in years. She stood for a few moments in front of the doors that lead out to the Truman balcony, deliberating whether or not she wanted to see what remained of the famed Washington Monument. She took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped outside. The cold January air had been significantly thwarted by the heat from the now-dying flames. Both the fire department and the police department had the area completely surrounded. Abbey was startled when her eyes fell apart the exact location of where the Monument once had been. It was nothing was a cloud of smoke.

5:56

The field agents that had been dispatched by the Counter Terrorism Unit filed out of the black unmarked van outside the Surgeon General's townhouse and, with their sniper guns in hand, ran stealthily up the steps, where they found the front door slightly ajar. The leading agent carefully pushed the door back and lead his team into the building. Several agents ran up to the second floor while numerous others explored the ground floor. In less than a minute, they all returned to the living room, announcing that the building was clear. The leading agent, however, was less impressed by this news as his attention had been captured by the television which had been hooked up to a live, untraced feed. The screen clearly conveyed the image of the Surgeon General herself, tied to a chair, struggling for her life.

5:59:57 5:59:58 5:59:59 6:00:00


End file.
